


bits and pieces

by killerqueenwrites



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Gen, Harley and Peter are brothers, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Lives, because I said so, ironfam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-07-30 16:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: snapshots of the Stark family's life after Thanos is defeated





	1. peter's mission in life is apparently scaring tony to death

**Author's Note:**

> in my defence this is @gay-in-221b's entire fault
> 
> in which tony doesn’t die doing the snap (because fuck that) but peter nearly kills him via heart attack instead

It takes a long moment for Tony to blink the white flash out of his eyes.

The world is quieter suddenly, the dusty air peppered with shouts of confusion, pained roars marking each Chituari that dissolves into ash.

“Danvers?” Steve’s voice carries above the noise, above the ringing in Tony’s ears. “Anyone got eyes on Danvers?”

Tony sits up, meeting Thanos’s gaze across the battlefield. He looks, for the first time, lost, distant, as his army disappears around him. He stares at Tony, and Tony glares right back.

“You lose,” he says. _You thought you could touch my friends, my family, my kid. You were wrong._

Thanos sits heavily, and then he’s gone, flaking away like he never existed.

If only that were true.

“Carol!” Steve darts forward, vaulting over piles of rubble and alien bodies. “Danvers, can you hear me?”

Carol staggers to her feet, clutching her right arm against her stomach; it’s burned and scarred, but nowhere near as bad as Bruce’s. “Ow.”

“That’s all you gotta say about that?” Sam says incredulously.

“Tony, man–“

“_Rhodey_.” Still unsteady from being slammed into the ground, Tony all but falls into his friend’s arms. Behind him, there’s a purple-blue-silver shape picking her way across the wreckage towards them. “Jesus, Pepper–“

“We won?” Quill appears from nowhere. “Did we just win?”

_We won._

“Holy shit.”

“We – we fucking did it–“

Tony tunes out everyone else, spinning around to get a better view.

“Tony, what are you–?”

“Where’s everyone?” He cuts off Rhodey, clambering a little further up their mound of rubble. “Did – did everyone make it? _Is everyone okay_?”

_Peter Peter Peter–_

His panicked cries are still ringing in Tony’s ears, yelps of fear abruptly cut off when the bombs started to fall.

“Peter?”

“Spider-Man?” Rhodey, thank God, knows exactly what Tony needs. “Kid? Where are you?”

“Anyone see the Spider-kid? I need you all spreading out,” Steve yells, commanding. “Is there anyone else missing?”

This should be the time for rest, for celebration, for sheer dizzying relief, but Tony learned long ago that battles don’t end the minute the fighting stops. There is the _after,_ treading a path through bodies and hoping none of the faces are familiar.

_Please don’t be dead,_ he thinks. He won’t survive losing Peter again; he barely did the first time around.

“Peter!”

“I got him!” It’s Scott’s voice. “We’re over here.”

Tony runs.

They’re climbing out from under a fallen piece of concrete, grey with dust and ash, when Tony reaches them. Scott, normal-sized again, helps Peter to his feet, and Tony notices the blood on both of their faces.

Last time he saw Peter, he could barely speak. It’s almost the same now, his throat closing over with love and relief and the aftershocks of terror, until Peter spots him and _whines_.

Scott practically carries Peter the last few feet to Tony, and his face softens in understanding when he sees them both reaching desperately for each other.

“Peter,” Tony gasps, and then he’s pulling the kid towards him, except Peter’s eyes aren’t focused on him, on anything. They’re duller than when Tony had seen him earlier, each blink sluggish. “…kid?”

“Mr Stark–“ is all Peter manages before he falls.

“Oh, _shit_,” Scott says.

Tony’s heart seizes in his chest. “Pete – Peter–“ The kid is limp, his face pressed against Tony’s shoulder; the only things keeping him from crumpling to the ground are Scott and Tony’s arms. “Shit, fuck – Lang, help me–“

Scott does, easing Peter down, and Rhodey’s suddenly there beside Tony, a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“What’s–?” Tony can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe? “What’s wrong with him? FRIDAY?” He glances up and down Peter’s prone body, searching for anything that might be seriously wrong.

“Is he hurt?” someone is whispering.

“Tony? Honey, breathe–“

He’s shaking the kid, frantic, terrified. “Peter–“

“In and out, man. You won’t do him any good by freaking out–“

_This isn’t fair_, Tony wants to scream. _We didn’t do all that just for me to lose him again_. “Peter, come on–“

_“Boss, I can’t find anything wrong, other than a sudden drop in both blood sugar and adrenaline.”_

“…he’s okay?”

_“He should be coming around soon.”_

Tony sits back with a gasp, running a trembling hand over his face. “Oh, _Jesus_.”

_Peter’s okay._

He’s so busy trying to calm his breathing, trying to slow his racing heart, that he almost misses Peter jerking awake with a gasp.

“Hey, steady, kid!” Rhodey’s there, helping Peter sit up. Of course he is. “Easy, easy, you’re all right.”

“Tony,” Peter whispers. “Where–?”

“He’s right here, honey.” Pepper smiles, the soft, gentle kind she usually sends Morgan.

Peter’s eyes roll desperately until they land on Tony. His face relaxes into a relieved grin.

And Tony breathes.

“Hi,” Peter says. Like it’s just any other day. Like he didn’t just give Tony seven heart attacks. Like they’re not sitting in the ruins of what used to be his second home. Like he wasn’t gone for five years.

“Hi?” Tony repeats. “Yeah, sure, I’ll take that. Hi, kid. You trying to scare me, or does that just come naturally to you?”

There’s a beat of silence before Peter’s tentative smile breaks into a smirk. “Only thing I’m good at, Mr Stark. Have to keep you busy.”

“Yeah.” Tony huffs out a shaky laugh. _God, I love you, kid_. “Yeah, you do.”

More silence. Peter ducks his head.

Tony from five years ago wouldn’t even have considered it. Now, he doesn’t hesitate, not for an instant, before leaning forward to tug Peter closer.

“Oh–!” Peter yelps in surprise. “Oh, we’re doing this again.”

The rest of the team begin melting away as the little commotion dies down; sensing the excitement is over; tactful enough to keep their celebrations at a distance; searching for their own friends and family; mindful of their need for privacy.

“I missed you,” Tony manages, and so what if his voice is choked? “I missed you so much.” He pulls away, both of his hands coming up to clasp Peter’s head. “God, _Peter_.”

It’s not particularly elegant or comfortable; they’re sprawled out on rubble and ruins in a tangled puddle of limbs, and Tony isn’t exactly complaining that Peter seems to want to keep as close to him as possible. His legs are starting to go dead and he couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Come here.” He leans forward again, this time to press his lips to the top of Peter’s head, and spends a long moment just breathing. Together, safe, alive.

A rushed reunion in the middle of a battle with no words of affection exchanged doesn’t count, Tony decides. This does.

“It really was five years, huh?” Peter murmurs.

“It really was.”

“It felt like…a few seconds.”

So he’d left one battle and come straight into an even bigger one. No wonder he’s exhausted.

“Well, sounds like you’ve had a hell of a day.” _It felt like a lifetime._

“Yeah, I – I think so. Could use a nap.”

“Nuh-uh. Not until you eat something. I swear, if you drop like that again – my heart won’t take it.”

“Okay.” But Peter makes no move to pull away, resting his forehead against Tony’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Tony agrees, “okay, kid, you’re okay. It’s all right, Underoos.” He grins at the old nickname, one he never thought he’d get to say again. His fingers find their way into Peter’s hair; it’s instinct, buried but not forgotten, something that grounds both of them.

Finally, Peter sits up and Tony follows, still clasping the back of the kid’s head.

“You’ve missed so much,” he says, just to keep himself here, just in case he blinks and it’s all a dream. “Jesus, five years is – it’s forever, Peter.” He leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “We need to tell Happy – shit, he missed you so much – and we need to find your aunt–“

“Is May okay? Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admits, stroking his thumb across Peter’s cheek. “She disappeared as well.” He doesn’t add that he was selfishly glad when neither Happy nor FRIDAY could find a trace of May Parker, because then he didn’t have to look her in the face and tell her he lost their kid.

If Peter’s surprised with Tony’s sudden burst of affection, he doesn’t show it or move to get out of the way. “I thought – I was scared you were gonna do the snap, because Doctor Strange said there was only one way to win, and then he gave up the Time Stone for you, and when there was the flash and they all started disappearing I thought–“

“I’m good,” Tony promises. “Didn’t need to die to save the world. Did need to invent time travel, though.”

Peter gasps, breathing out, “You invented _time travel_?” and Tony wonders what he ever did to deserve this brilliant, wonderful kid looking at him like he hung the fucking moon.

Does he tell Peter that it was all for him? That he was the reason the world was saved, the only reason Tony even considered it?

Not yet. Not today.

“You guys all right?” Rhodey calls, and Tony realises neither of them have moved in a while.

“We’re good, honeybear.”

“Steve says we’re heading out. Don’t know where, but anywhere’s better than here, I guess.” Rhodey shakes his head slowly, a grin breaking over his face. “We did it, man.”

“We won,” Tony says. “We fucking won.”

Peter laughs, high and shaky with relief, the way he always used to after a close call, and it suddenly hits Tony that he’s _real_. “You did it,” he says.

“Well, you helped, kid.” _And one day I’ll tell you just how much._ “And it was Bruce who brought you all back, and Carol got rid of them all–“

“And you invented time travel.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Rhodey repeats. “Don’t sell yourself short, man. Banner turned Scott into a baby.”

Peter’s eyes fly wide. “He can turn into a baby, too?”

“He’s not supposed to.”

“Tony, honey, you can’t stay there all day.” Pepper appears, the setting sun glinting off her hair and her armour.

“I’ve also had a hell of a day, so I think I’m entitled to–“

“We left Happy in charge,” she reminds him.

“Oh, shit, the juice pops!”

“Juice pops?” Peter says.

“I’ll get Strange,” Rhodey says. “He can get us there before you have a sugar rush emergency on your hands.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea. Come on, Pete.”

“Where are we going? Are we going to see Happy? Can you introduce me to that really cool glowing lady? What–?”

_“Boss, you have thirty-seven missed calls from Forehead of Security, eighteen from Spud and fifty-two from Aunt Hottie.”_

“Shit.”

“Tony, Strange says if we don’t hurry up, we can make our own way back!”

“Where are we going?” Peter asks again, clambering to his feet. He looks at Tony, young and trusting and wonderfully alive, and God, he has a whole life to live now, a little sister he has to meet, more people to reunite with. He’s _back_.

Tony cups the back of his neck and pulls him close again, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. “Home, kid.”


	2. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before, Mr Stark used to look at Peter like he was the only thing in whatever room they were. Now his universe revolves around his daughter, and Peter hates that he feels left out. Why should he feel left out? He isn’t a Stark.
> 
> She stares at Peter like he’s an intruder, and Peter starts to agree with her. This isn’t his house, these people aren’t his family. The little girl stares Peter down with Mr Stark’s eyes and everything is suddenly too loud, too close and Mr Stark has grey hair, a wedding ring, a daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all really wanted a part two huh? it got long i'm sorry
> 
> happy birthday, peter parker, you adorable bean. this is the happy ending you and tony deserved

The portal opens on a house Peter’s never seen before: small, wooden, sitting peacefully at the edge of a lake that’s glinting in the sunset.

Home, Mr Stark had called it.

Mr Stark, who hasn’t let go of Peter since he’d come back around, who still has a protective arm around his shoulders. This Mr Stark, all grey hair and warm smiles and untempered affection and easy familiarity, is new but so wonderful.

“Careful,” Mr Stark says as they approach the porch steps, and Peter is reminded that he’s still unsteady on his feet.

God, his head is pounding. He’s so thirsty, but all he wants to do is lie down and take a nap. No, no more keeling over; he’s freaked Mr Stark out enough today already.

But the pressure keeps building behind his eyes, and Rhodey’s sharp raps on the front door echo off the inside of his skull.

“Who is it?” someone yells.

“It’s us, man,” Rhodey says.

The door flies open.

“What the hell, guys?”

Pepper sighs. “Happy–“

“Tony disappears off to time travel or whatever, and while I was driving here I nearly hit a deer that reappeared in the middle of the road, and then I’m left looking after everything here because, and I quote, ‘a wizard said he needs my help’! Then the Compound gets blown up – I’ve tried to keep her away from the TV as much as possible, but–“

“We’re all fine, Happy.” Pepper smiles. “Thank you.”

“You sure? Because you all look like crap–”

“Language, Hap,” Mr Stark says with a grin. “There’s children here.”

Happy turns to them – he’s changed too, grown a beard – and his face slackens with relief. “Jesus – kid.”

Not for the first time today, Peter is swept into an unexpected but not unwelcome hug. “Okay! Uh…guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder, huh?”

The only response he gets is a loud sniff.

“…Happy?”

“He missed you,” Mr Stark says, patting Peter’s arm as he walks through the door. “You may be some time – hey, Hap, don’t hog the kid forever, okay? He needs, like, three solid meals. Come inside when you’re ready, Pete.”

It’s such a small thing – and really, Peter should have put the pieces together sooner – but Mr Stark inviting him inside is what finally makes it click: this is his _home_, one he must’ve bought after everyone disappeared.

Peter’s not sure why that surprises him. It’s been five years; of course life had to go on. People had to move on, right?

Happy lets him go, quickly wiping his eyes. “Um…good to have you back, kid.”

“Thanks, Happy.”

“It really wasn’t the same without you around.” Happy looks around, because yeah, this is a little awkward. “You wanna go inside?”

Inside is wooden floors and furniture, cosy and homely. It’s exactly the kind of place Peter could never imagine Mr Stark living.

“Suits off in the house!” Pepper calls. As soon as she does, there’s a clatter on the floor above, excited footsteps racing for the stairs.

Peter rubs his the back of his neck and winces. “I, um, I only have the suit.”

“Don’t worry,” Mr Stark says. “Oh, here she is!” He bends down at the foot of the stairs just as the footsteps stop; when he stands back up, there’s a child in his arms.

She stares at Peter like he’s an intruder, and Peter starts to agree with her. This isn’t his house, these people aren’t his family. The little girl stares Peter down with Mr Stark’s eyes and everything is suddenly too loud, too close and Mr Stark has grey hair, a wedding ring, a _daughter_.

Someone claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin. They’re all staring at him now, concerned, questioning, uncertain.

“I, um…” Peter waves his hand. “I just need some air.”

He ends sitting on the end of a dock, dangling his feet just above the water. There’s a strange purring hum from behind him and he turns to see a llama grazing outside the house. It stares at Peter before walking out of sight.

_Okay…_

Someone sits down beside him, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, kid.”

“You have a llama,” is what Peter chooses to respond with.

“He’s an alpaca.”

Peter snorts and they both fall silent for a moment.

“So,” Mr Stark says finally, “probably should’ve warned you about the, um, everything.”

“No,” Peter says. “It’s fine, I just, uh, I’m tired and my head hurts, and I think my senses are kinda out of whack from nearly being blown up, so…that’s fun.” He stares out at the lake again. “It’s nice here.”

“Mm.” Mr Stark gives him a concerned look but lets the subject change. “I couldn’t stay in New York after everything. I wanted to get far away from the rest of the Avengers. I had to. And…everything there reminded me of you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” The arm tightens around his shoulders, and he’s still not quite sure what to do with this new, affectionate Mr Stark. “I didn’t want my little girl growing up in a city of ghosts.”

“She’s cute,” Peter manages. She’s living proof of the five years he lost.

“Her name’s Morgan.” Mr Stark’s face softens with so much warmth and love. It’s close to the expression he’d worn when they’d found each other on the battlefield the first time, Peter realises. “Just a quick heads-up: if she asks about the bad man, just say he was scary but I saved you. No gory details.”

“The bad man?”

“Yeah, well, we had to Disneyfy it a little for her. I said that a bad man took you away.” Mr Stark shrugs, but there’s something sitting deep behind his eyes, an awful pain that Peter doesn’t even want to think about. “It’s kinda true, I guess.”

“From a certain point of view,” Peter mumbles.

“Oh, yeah?” Mr Stark’s lips quirk and the shadow of sadness passes. “Star Wars references? Yeah, you’re back to normal.”

_What’s normal?_

“Oh! Here.” Mr Stark pulls away to fish in his pockets; Peter almost whimpers at the loss of contact.

The aftermath of the battle is a vague, foggy memory, closer to a dream, but he remembers hands under his arms as he reached for Mr Stark and _whined_ like a lost child.

“Sandwiches,” Mr Stark announces. “Pepper vetoed juice pops counting as food a long time ago. Eat up.”

“Juice pops?” Peter takes the offered ham and cheese.

“Madam Secretary’s favourite things. Her other favourite thing is twisting people’s arms to get them.” Mr Stark sighs. “I’m so proud.”

Before, Mr Stark used to look at Peter like he was the only thing in whatever room they were. Now his universe revolves around his daughter, and Peter hates that he feels left out. Why should he feel left out? He isn’t a Stark.

They lapse into silence again, watching tiny waves ripple against the dock. The first stars are starting to show in the darkening sky.

Peter doesn’t remember much, but he knows he died as the sun was setting. He died staring at the sky. _He died._

Suddenly, his sandwich doesn’t taste so good anymore.

“You want to go back inside?” Mr Stark whispers.

“No, um…” _Don’t cry, don’t cry._ “You probably need some time with your family, so…”

“Yeah.” Oh, it’s his about to explain something obvious voice. “I do, so come inside.”

_What?_ “I…”

“I’ve had five years of them, kid, which was five years without you. Plus, you literally collapsed on me about half an hour ago; this is making sure you don’t drown in the lake as much as anything else.” Mr Stark reaches out and tugs Peter against his side. “No, seriously, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Once again, this is new. It’s nice, though, especially the gentle hand now working through Peter’s hair. He stretches his legs out and manages a sleepy, contented grunt.

He’s _really_ tired.

“Hey, what’d I tell you? No naps before food.”

“Had food.”

Mr Stark’s laugh is fond and sets a warm feeling spreading through Peter’s chest. “No, I mean I sent Happy to get takeout. All kinds of takeout. And your aunt, hopefully.”

“May?”

“You got another aunt I don’t know about? Yeah, May. She was calling non-stop. She might’ve tried yours, but I, uh, disconnected it.”

“Oh, she’s gonna _freak_ if she can’t get through.”

“Yup. Hence Happy.”

“Wait…you disconnected my phone?”

“Yeah.” Mr Stark’s fingers pause for a second. “I…kept calling it. Like you were gonna answer. It wasn’t healthy, so I got rid of the temptation. Had to find little ways to keep living, for Morgan if nothing else.”

“Uh-huh.” Mr Stark had missed him? He feels awful about that, gnawing guilt rearing its head every time he thinks about it, so why does he baulk at the thought of Mr Stark moving on?

Mr Stark deserved to move on, deserved to be happy with his family_. It’s been five years._

He wonders if Mr Stark thinks he’s asleep when he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the top of Peter’s head. There’s no post-battle adrenaline, no death scares that could possibly explain it otherwise.

“You should probably get changed,” Mr Stark says eventually. “You’ve worn that suit through two – kinda three – fights, plus it’s really not nice to hug. I have five years’ worth of hugs to give you.”

“You’re very huggy,” Peter agrees. “Which isn’t bad! Just…different.”

_It’s been five years._ It felt like five minutes.

“Well, I…” Mr Stark sighs again. “I realised, after…_after_, that I wasn’t exactly, you know, like this, and I wished, every day, that – well, obviously, I wanted you back. But, if you really were gone forever, I wished I’d told you how much – how important you are. I tell Morgan every single day, and it’s still not enough. You – Christ, I figured out time travel for you.”

“Mr Stark–“

“I love you, kid.” Mr Stark’s voice is quiet but so so sincere, before amusement creeps in. “You’re gonna be hearing that a lot from now on, so…”

“M’kay.” If this A Thing now, not just _‘holy shit you passed out and I thought you were dead’_…well, Peter’s not complaining. “Love you too.”

There’s a beat of silence before Mr Stark huffs out a laugh and hugs him tighter.

“What?”

“Nothing, kid. Just…broke the cycle.”

Peter’s been doing the math. Obviously, Pepper hadn’t disappeared because Morgan exists, and he’s guessing Happy and Rhodey didn’t either. That just leaves him.

_I figured out time travel for you._

“Let’s go find you a change of clothes, kid,” Mr Stark says easily, like he didn’t laugh in the face of the laws of the universe to save Peter.

“But that’s all the way _inside_.”

“All right, you win.”

Okay, he hadn’t expected Mr Stark to give in quite that easily.

“Let’s go.” And then there are arms looping under his legs and behind his shoulders and he’s flying–

He’s only a little ashamed to admit that he yelps. “Mr Stark–!”

“What? You don’t have to walk. We get to go inside. Win-win.”

“This is embarrassing.”

“Hush.”

“Did you just hush me?”

“Yes.” Mr Stark takes a couple of steps before he groans. “Okay, no, hop down. It’s piggyback time.”

* * *

Rhodey finds it uproariously funny when Mr Stark ducks inside with Peter wrapped around him like a koala, to which Mr Stark grumbles, “Teenagers are heavier than four-year-olds,” and sets Peter down on the couch. “Stay there, okay? You gotta meet someone.”

Rhodey grins and shakes his head.

“Here!” Mr Stark reappears, his daughter sitting on his hip. “Maguna, do you know who this is?”

“Uh-huh!”

“You do? Great.” Everything about Mr Stark is softer around his daughter. “Who is he?”

“That’s Peter!” she exclaims, reaching for him, and Peter falls in love.

“It is! It’s Peter! You wanna go say hi?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.” Mr Stark looks at Peter. “Kid? Gotta warn you: she’s a hugger.”

“I think we’ll get on well,” Peter says, and Mr Stark deposits her on his lap. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She traces the metallic spider design on the front of his suit. “I’m Morgan, and you’re Peter.”

“Yeah.” God, she’s so small, but he can see Mr Stark in everything she does, from her wide brown eyes to the curious way she tilts her head.

“Daddy said you’re Spider-Man.” She knows him, knows more than just his name.

“I am.”

“He said you’re my brother.”

Not for the first time today, Peter has to fight back tears.

“He said someone took you away.”

“Yeah,” Peter croaks. _An orange sunset, shining through clouds of dust and ash that had been people._ When he glances at Mr Stark, the same horror is there. “Yeah, and it was scary for a minute, but then your dad saved me.”

“Mm-hm. He’s a hero.”

“He’s the _best_ hero.”

“But he always said Spider-Man was the best hero.” Morgan pouts, and _oh God Peter will die in a heartbeat to protect this child_. “He’s fast and strong and brave and kind.”

“Oh…” Peter, searching for somewhere to look, focuses on her oversized sweater that’s a very familiar shade of blue. “I like your jumper. Where’s it from?”

“It’s yours, silly,” she laughs, “because you’re smart, and I wear it so I’ll be really smart, too!”

“Is that what your dad told you?”

“Yep!”

“Well, did he tell you that he’s also really smart? Like, the smartest?”

“Okay, okay, am I doing something wrong here?” Mr Stark says. “Aren’t children supposed to be little gremlins that conspire against you once there’s more than one of them?”

Pepper walks down the stairs, a pile of folded clothes in her arms. “You should be grateful that you have kids who stroke your ego. Besides, she’s like this with Harley, too.”

“Oh, yeah, Pete, you gotta meet Keener. Morgan, should we get Harley over sometime soon?”

“Uh-huh.” Morgan pretends to be preoccupied with the spider insignia again. “So, where on your body is your ego?”

“No,” Pepper says before anyone else can answer. Rhodey muffles a snort. “Peter, sweetie, here are some clothes. Tony, do you want to show Peter his room?”

* * *

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I…”

“I know. I know it’s a lot, but–“

“No, are you kidding? It’s awesome.” Peter stares around the bedroom, so obviously made for a teenager, for _him_. “Wow, Mr Stark. How long has this been set up?”

Mr Stark looks everywhere but at Peter. “I’d say…since we moved here. So about five years.”

Peter waits for him to grin, for the punchline. It never comes. “…wait, really?”

“Yup. Like calling your phone knowing there’s no one at the other end isn’t the unhealthiest thing I’m capable of – come on, kid, you’ve met me.” Mr Stark huffs and rests his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Come on, get changed. Happy’s gonna be back soon.”

“Mr Stark?”

“Hm?”

“This is great, thank you.”

Mr Stark smiles and leans forward to kiss the side of Peter’s head. “Good. I mean, it’s not just some kind of weird shrine; Harley stays here sometimes, which explains the junk food wrappers in the trash. How he got all that past Pep, I’ll never know–“

Peter laughs. Mr Stark has a room in his house for him. He didn’t forget him, not even after five years. _I figured out time travel for you._

“Tony…”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, kid.” Another kiss, this time on his forehead. “God, I keep – you’re actually _here_.”

“You saved me.”

Mr Stark stays like that for a moment longer, breathing in, before his hand ruffles Peter’s hair. “Now, for the last time, get changed!”

* * *

Later, after May’s hugged him over and over again, all the while shooting dire threats at Mr Stark about what will happen if he ever takes Peter to space again, after she’s cooed over Morgan, after they’ve stuffed themselves on three different kinds of takeout, they curl on up the couches in the lounge.

Morgan, still in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, has hardly left his side, and she’s nodding off on his lap. Happy and Rhodey are snoring, while May and Pepper are dozing underneath a throw.

Peter glances at Mr Stark. “Just a warning: I’m gonna be entering a food coma any minute now.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Just okay?”

“You think I have the brain capacity for anything past ‘okay’? I’ve had a _day_.”

“_I’ve_ had a day.”

“We’ve both had a day.” Mr Stark tugs him closer in the way that’s quickly becoming both familiar and comforting. “Welcome home, kid.”

_Home_. Home with Happy and Rhodey, Pepper and Morgan, May and Mr Stark. Tomorrow he can call his friends, and he can wake up to his family. He’s home.


	3. tony is absolutely, definitely, one-hundred-percent not keeping these dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe you’re keeping the dogs,” Harley says, his tone just the slightest bit triumphant.
> 
> “I’m not keeping the dogs,” Tony argues. He’s not going to let Harley be right, not again.
> 
> (spoiler alert: he's keeping the dogs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so apologies if this is confusing! but this is now a drabble collection all set in this post-endgame universe where tony lives because i need to cope
> 
> i don't know how many of you have seen outnumbered (maybe it's a british thing) but the first part of this is based off the scene when the daughter is asking for pets. (she does actually ask for nits at one point). enjoy!

“What about…a fish?”

“Maybe, sweetie.”

“What about a butterfly?”

“They’re not around right now, honey, it’s November.”

“What about…a giraffe?”

“A giraffe–? No, Morgan, we can’t take care of a giraffe.” Pepper is keeping her patience admirably well. “We have Gerald.”

“But he’s _Daddy’s_ pet.” Morgan pushes the peas around her plate. “_I_ want a pet.”

“Maybe soon, Morgan,” Mr Stark says with a grin. Peter thinks he’s secretly enjoying this a little too much. “How about when you’re a little older and you can take care of it by yourself?”

But Morgan’s a Stark, not to be deterred so easily. “What about…a spider?”

Pepper sighs.

Mr Stark’s smile widens. “Should’ve just said yes to the puppy, honey. Besides, Maguna, we already have our own little spider.” And he turns and ruffles Peter’s hair.

“Mr Stark!”

“Peter, don’t you want a pet?”

“Yeah,” he says without thinking, and is immediately subjected to the full force of a Pepper Potts glare. “I – I mean–! I’d love one, Morgan, but my apartment building won’t allow animals. And May’s allergic to cats.”

Morgan shrugs this off and quickly acquires her next target. “Harley, do you want a pet?”

Harley slurps in a long strand of spaghetti before answering. “I mean, sure. You never have to look too far to find animals at home, though, and I’m pretty sure there’s a rat living in my garage.”

“Other than you, you mean?” Peter says, and smirks when Harley flashes him the finger out of everyone else’s view.

They’d been a little awkward together at first, neither one of them sure exactly where they fit in this odd, post-Snap world or in Mr Stark’s family. Harley had stayed, grown up, known Morgan since she was a few days old, while Peter hadn’t aged a day save for a couple new nightmare-fuel memories. Sharing a room for the first few days had been excruciating.

That all changed when Morgan blurted out that Peter was Spider-Man, and Harley’s tentative suspicion became something bordering on hero worship. They’re practically inseparable now, and there’s at least one moment a day when Mr Stark visibly regrets introducing them.

“Just rewind a second,” Mr Stark says. “You’re telling me that in your wonderful, pristine, state-of-the-art workshop that I had made, installed on a rush order and paid for…there’s a rat.”

“That’s Tennessee, old man!” Harley crows and reaches for more garlic bread.

* * *

Tony shifts on the couch again, squinting at the book in his hands. It’s late, hours since the sun set, and rain has been pouring all day, pounding against the windows of the house. It’s November, all right.

Harley looks up from his spot on the rug and nudges his shoulder against Tony’s knee. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“My Dad senses are on high alert.”

“Fuck off,” Harley scoffs. “You just hate being away from Peter.”

“That’s not exactly news, Keener.”

Peter’s been back in New York for the past few days, ‘doing his Spider-Man thing’ as well as trying to sort out high school. Right now, it looks like half the population disappearing in April and reappearing in November is doing nothing for the already overtaxed school system. Shocking.

Except Harley’s right; he hasn’t been so far away from Peter for so long since _before_. There are two _befores_ now: before Thanos and before the return.

Harley nudges him again, calling his attention back to his house, his family, Pepper upstairs putting Morgan to bed, one son leaning on his legs. “He’ll be fine, Tony. Spider-Man, remember? And FRIDAY hasn’t said anything’s wrong. Which she will, if there is. Chill out.”

“Oh, to be a teenager,” Tony drones, but he’s grinning. “The knowledge of the world at my fingertips.”

They lapse into silence, lost in the sound of the storm beating against the windows. At some point, they both doze off, Tony’s head resting on the back of the couch, Harley slumped against his thighs.

_“Boss.”_

FRIDAY’s saying something, and Tony’s going to get around to it, just five more minutes…

_“Boss, Peter Parker is approaching the house.”_

“…what?” Tony sits up, frowning. Harley mumbles something incoherent at the movement. “What time is it?”

_“Three-twenty-four, Boss.”_

“Jesus.” Awareness is drifting back to Tony, and with it comes panic. “Is he hurt? What – what’s he doing here?”

_“He doesn’t appear to be injured.”_ FRIDAY pauses. _“He is outside the door.”_

“Okay. Okay, um…” Tony stands, gently shifting Harley’s drooping head so he’s resting on the couch cushions instead. “I’m coming, I’m – ow, _fuck_!” And there’s the coffee table.

He makes it to the door without any noises from upstairs – if he’d woken Pepper or Morgan, he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it any time soon – and yanks it open.

Peter is standing on the porch, hunched over and soaking wet. He’s shivering so hard his whole body is shaking, hair plastered down his face and water dripping into his eyes.

“Kid, what the hell?” Tony reaches out and all but drags him inside, wrestling the door shut despite the hurricane-force winds picking up. Harley starts awake and glares sleepily at the scene in front of him.

“S-s-sorry.” Peter’s teeth are chattering, which is a bad sign anyway, never mind that the spider bite gifted him with the shittiest thermoregulation known to mankind.

“The fuck, Parker?” Harley grumbles. “Dude, you’re fuckin’ frozen.”

“You’re drowning,” Tony says. “Shit, did you _swing_ here?”

“Mostly.” Peter shudders again, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Had t-to run when I ran out of buildings. And trees.”

“Jesus Christ, kid, why did you come all the way out here? It must’ve taken you at least an hour.”

“N-nearly two.”

“What the _hell_, Peter?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again. “I’m really sorry, but I didn’t know where else to bring them.”

“Them?”

Peter lifts his arms and Tony notices, for the first time, the bundle of fabric he’d been clutching against his torso. It lets out a whimper and for a heart-stopping moment, Tony wonders if it’s a baby.

Instead, it unravels to reveal two tiny puppies, just as soaked and shivering as Peter.

“Oh, no,” is Tony’s first reaction. “Oh, Peter, no. No, you have to get them out of here before Pepper sees, or worse, Morgan. Who owns them?”

“They were in a Dumpster.” Peter’s voice quivers and he pulls the puppies close to his chest again. “In a garbage bag, Mr Stark, and they were crying and I couldn’t leave them, but I couldn’t take them to the apartment, so I came here–“

“Why didn’t you call someone? Happy, me? Now all three of you are drenched.”

“It was, like, half one. I didn’t know if you’d be awake, or if you’d let me…” Peter glances down, and one of the puppies licks his chin. “I didn’t want to leave them at a shelter, either, because I think they’re siblings and what if they got split up–?”

He’s getting worked up, each breath turning to a gulping sob, and it does something funny inside Tony’s chest.

“Okay,” he says calmly, “okay, Peter, calm down. Breathe, okay? I’m not mad. Let me take them.”

Peter steps back, shaking his head. Water drips from his curls. “Don’t–“

“They’re not going anywhere tonight,” Tony promises. It’s not a yes to Peter’s unspoken question, not even close. “But even from here, they smell like garbage, and you need a long, hot shower. I’ll give them a wash in the kitchen sink, and when you come down, I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

Peter relinquishes his little bundle, his face crumpling, so Tony quickly hands them to Harley. “Why are people like this, Mr Stark? They’re just babies.”

“I don’t know, buddy.” Tony hugs him close, wincing at how icy-cold his skin is. November rain, indeed. “You fight the scum of the earth, go up against a genocidal alien not once, but twice, and you lose it at puppies?”

Harley is doing his best to make sympathetic faces. Tony knows that he’s more pragmatic about animals, that he knows they die sometimes, and there’s not always something to do about it; it comes with living in the country. Peter, though, will never just accept it, and Tony loves him for it.

“Come on, up the stairs. There’s a pair of your warm pyjamas in the closet in your room.”

“Thanks, Mr Stark,” Peter mumbles before he pulls away and traipses up the stairs.

“They do smell like garbage,” Harley mutters.

“Right. Bath. Giving two puppies a bath.” _I’ve never done this before in my life_. “No big deal. We’ll use washing up liquid – there’s no chemicals in it or anything.”

“Everything’s chemicals, idiot,” Harley says, but he seems happy to entertain the puppies while Tony fills the sink with lukewarm water. “It really took one blast of Peter’s puppy eyes and you’re keeping them? I gotta learn how to do that.”

“I’m not keeping the dogs.”

* * *

“Oh, yes, look at _you_ – see, you’re _black_ under all that dirt. Is it warm? I bet it’s nice and warm for you, after that _horrible_ storm outside…”

Harley is sitting on the counter, shaking his head in disbelief, as Tony grapples with two tiny gremlins. He wonders if puppies should come with a sign that says ‘Slippery when wet’. Still, he keeps his voice happy and playful; the puppies have been through enough tonight.

“And you’re brown, look at that! So we got a girl and a boy, huh?”

“I can’t believe you’re keeping the dogs,” Harley says, his tone just the slightest bit triumphant.

“I’m not keeping the dogs,” Tony argues. He’s not going to let Harley be right, not again.

“Tony, you’re in love with the dogs already.”

“That may or may not be true–“

“It’s so true.”

“–but I’m only doing this so Peter doesn’t get too attached. It’s going to be hard enough for him when he has to say goodbye.”

“Yeah, you’re a real martyr.” Harley hops down and picks up one, the black girl, and wrestles her with a towel that should be drying her off but instead seems to be her new favourite toy.

Peter appears at the foot of the stairs, still wet but less pale and shaking like a leaf, so Tony counts it as a win. “You weren’t kidding about the bath.”

“Of course not. Besides, now they smell like apples.” The brown one chooses that moment to do a little hop, splashing himself, Tony and half the kitchen. “Okay, well at least _now_ Pep can’t complain about the kitchen stinking.”

Peter grins and takes the black puppy from Harley, cooing gently at her. “Hey, you’re clean now. I bet that feels better, huh?”

“Peter.” God, Tony hates being stern. He sounds like Howard. “Don’t get too friendly, kid, okay? It’s just gonna be harder for all of you.”

“Okay.” But Peter doesn’t put her down. “What do we do now?”

Tony checks his phone. Four-fifteen. Jesus. “Now, we try to reclaim the last of the sleeping hours available to us. In the morning, you call your aunt before she reports you missing and I’ll call the nearest vet or shelter or something, see what the best thing to do is.”

Peter’s face falls at the idea of saying goodbye to the puppies and _oh God, oh God, Tony’s a terrible person._

“Or we can…wait until this storm is over to do anything.”

“Yeah.” Peter nods. “Yeah, that sounds better.” The puppy licks his chin again and he giggles.

Harley smirks and mouths, “Whipped,” at Tony.

Tony hates his kids.

* * *

Despite Mr Stark’s protests – “I’m not having animals on the couch!” – they all curl up together. Harley and the brown puppy drop off almost instantly, letting out matching soft snores. Peter smiles; he might maintain a careful emotional distance from most people, but Harley’s really one of the kindest people he’s ever met.

Peter watches the black one sleep on his lap, fascinated at the way her nose twitches every few minutes. “Mr Stark…”

“No.”

“I’m actually in love.”

“Pete…”

Huh, Mr Stark actually sounds like he’s considering this. Maybe Harley was right when he said that Peter has him wrapped around his little finger.

“Mr Stark, I’m going to kill and die for her.”

“Peter, that’s quite dramatic.” Mr Stark is grinning, though. “Did you, uh, figure out what’s happening with school?”

“Hm?” The puppy sneezes in her sleep and it takes Peter a good ten seconds to process the question. “Oh. Yeah. We’re starting in January.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s, like, just a district thing or state or the whole country, but they’re saying we all definitely passed the first semester. It’s just annoying, ‘cause we’d sat all our finals before spring break but they didn’t finish grading them before…you know. So we have to do the second half of the year all over again.”

“Well, you have a few months.” Mr Stark sounds like even that isn’t enough.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t have to worry about it just yet.”

“No.”

Harley snores loudly.

“And at least you won’t have to listen to this when you’re back in New York.”

Oh. So that’s the problem. “I’ll come and visit as often as I can, Mr Stark.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Mr Stark sighs. “I like knowing you’re _here_, kid. I don’t think knowing you’re out _there_ is enough. I want…”

“I know,” Peter says, and he does. He worries when he’s away from Mr Stark, has this persistent need to check he’s okay, not stabbed through the abdomen, not gone in a flash of white light, not walking out of Peter’s life because he built a family without him. “We can – I’ll video call you every day.” Maybe it’s time for some deliberate manipulation. “Still, maybe if I had a reason to visit more often…”

“Oh, you’re unbelievable.”

The puppy snuffles and rolls onto her back, legs in the air, and Peter melts.

“Fucking perfect timing. Did you tell her to do that?”

“Mr Stark, she’s a _puppy_.”

* * *

Tony wakes up to a high-pitched noise. Several, if he’s being precise.

Okay. Pepper’s screeching. The puppies are yapping. Peter is talking so fast his words are jumbling into one long stream.

Pepper. The puppies. Oh, shit.

“Tony!”

“Mrs Stark honestly it’s my fault I found them and I turned up here at half three in the morning–“

“Tony, there are _animals_ in my _house_!”

“–please don’t be mad at Mr Stark this was all me–“

“Can you please stop them barking?”

“Oh, sorry.” Peter reaches down and scoops the puppies up, one in each hand, and they fall silent.

Pepper sighs. “Thank you.” She’s in her dressing gown, her hair wet from the shower. “Tony, can I have a word, please?”

He’s so dead. She leads him into the kitchen and waits, arms folded.

“In my defence, it was four in the morning, and I had – have – every intention of dropping them at a shelter when it stopped raining.”

Pepper studies his face for a moment. “You’re not going to be able to give them away. Okay. Okay, so there’s two dogs and you love them already. So do Peter and Harley. Wonderful. And Morgan is still asking for a pet. Okay.”

“If I remember rightly, she’d reached wasps and head lice last night. You should be grateful we’ve cycled back around to puppies.”

Pepper shakes her head, but there’s a tired grin breaking through. “This isn’t backtracking, right? We never said no…”

“No. No, it’s a compromise. We’re cool parents.”

“That’s twice what she asked for, Tony, it’s the opposite of a compromise.”

“Well…she can look after them with the boys and learn about shared responsibility or something.” Tony tries for a winning smile. “Right?”

“Right.”

Footsteps clatter down the stairs and Morgan squeals, “Puppies!”

Tony shrugs. “No way out now.”

* * *

“No dogs on the beds,” Pepper says. “Upstairs, fine. On beds, no.”

“Agreed,” Mr Stark says. “Can we allow couches, though?”

“Only with a human or a blanket between them and the couch. And you kids better keep them clean, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Got it!”

“Is that everything, then?”

“Almost.” Harley lays his hands on the table, being as dramatic as humanly possible because Harley Keener. “But there’s one great task left. We must name them.”

The Them in question are currently play fighting under the coffee table.

Mr Stark claps his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I think Peter gets to name one, since he found them and swung through a storm with them.”

Peter smiles. “Okay, um…” The puppies roll on top of each other with excited yips. “The black one is called Frankie.”

“Cute!” Morgan agrees.

“Mm.” Peter watches Frankie chase a floating speck of dust. “My uncle’s middle name was Franklin.”

Mr Stark rests a gentle hand on his head. “Okay, so that’s one. Morgan, Harley? Any ideas?”

“Grace,” Harley says. “Like Grace and Frankie?”

“Veto.”

“Pizza?”

“No.”

“Sandwich?”

“Nope.”

“But I’m hungry!” Harley whines. “Okay, Beter Barker?”

“Harley, _what_?”

“Oh my God! Boney Bark!”

“Veto!” Pepper laughs.

“Okay, brown puppy of indeterminate name,” Mr Stark says, “you’re gonna have to wait a little longer–“

“Chewbacca,” Morgan says suddenly.

There’s silence for a second.

“Parker, what have you done to my daughter?”

Harley laughs. “Chewie for short!”

“We’re seriously naming this dog after Star Wars? This is really a thing that’s happening.”

“He’s wagging his tail, Daddy! He likes it!”

“Oh my God. Okay, fine. Frankie and Chewie. Welcome to the crazy family.”

* * *

Tony gently shuts Morgan’s door, still grinning at the way she hugs Peter’s old Midtown sweater in her sleep. He’ll have to buy the kid a new one before January.

“Tony!” Pepper hisses from outside the boys’ room. “The dog’s on the bed.”

“Well, that rule only took about fifteen hours to collapse.” Tony joins her, leaning in to see Peter curled up with Frankie.

Even as they watch, Peter stiffens in his sleep, his fingers clenching around his pillow. It’s so obviously a nightmare; Tony had seen them a few times before Thanos, but there’s been so many more since everyone returned. He’s about to cross the room to his kid when Pepper stops him with a gentle hand on his arm.

Frankie is awake, whining and nudging at Peter’s face. Peter blinks awake after a particularly forceful lick and his gaze focuses on the puppy, the aftershocks of the dream quickly fading away. “Good girl,” he breathes out, already drifting back to sleep.

Pepper closes the door with a smile. “Maybe this isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“That’s because it was Peter’s idea. Maybe fifteen percent Harley’s, too.”

“That explains it.”

“Mm.”

Pepper looks at him. “We have dogs.”

“We have dogs. We have three kids and a house and two dogs.” Tony grins. “Have we…_made_ _it_?”

“There’s also an alpaca,” she reminds him. “This is closer to a petting zoo.”

“Oh, you know what? That’s an idea!”

“Tony, no.”

“Couple little pigmy goats? Some rabbits? How about a pony?”

“_Tony_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a Plan for the next few chapters – the events of far from home may be making an appearance soon...


	4. number one helicopter dad tony stark: hovering and loving it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s not slick, not where Peter is concerned. He wants him around all the time, wants to constantly check that he’s there and alive. It’s understandable; if Harley had held someone as they died, felt them dissolve into nothing and fall through his fingers, he’d want to keep them close, too.
> 
> He wonders if adults can get separation anxiety, because if so, Tony definitely has it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎶 guess who's back 🎶
> 
> in here, we fill in some of the details about what happened to harley and his family during the snap, but it's mostly domestic fluff because it's what tony stark deserves

Harley’s phone buzzes, and he spends a good ten seconds seriously considering whether he should throw it out the window. He doesn’t. “Hello?”

_“Hey, man!”_

“Parker, are you kidding me? You _just_ left.”

The Parkers had been sent off after spending Christmas and New Year at the lake house. Tony had insisted, because of course he had: “Family holiday, Pete. That means _all_ the family.”

Tony’s not slick, not where Peter is concerned. He wants him around all the time, wants to constantly check that he’s there and alive. It’s understandable; if Harley had held someone as they died, felt them dissolve into nothing and fall through his fingers, he’d want to keep them close, too.

Which meant saying goodbye had been almost hours of “Are you sure you have everything?” and kisses peppered all over Peter’s face, because this goodbye is goodbye for longer than it’s been since everyone came back. School is starting up again for Peter and everyone else who got snapped away. Harley wonders if adults can get separation anxiety, because if so, Tony definitely has it.

_“If by just, you mean five hours ago, then yeah.”_

“What?” Harley rolls his chair over to his laptop. It is, in fact, half-eleven at night. “Aw, shit.”

_“Not a big deal, dude. Mr Stark does it all the time.”_ Peter hesitates for a moment. _“Anything?”_

“Nope.” Harley doesn’t mean to sound bitter, but that’s what happens when your mom, who’s been dead for five years, comes back to life and doesn’t even attempt to find you or your sister.

_“Shit, man, I’m sorry.”_

“Why?” Harley doesn’t mean to bite at him, but he convinces himself he did. Snap at people before they snap at you. At least then it’s on your terms.

_“‘Cause it’s horrible.“_ He can practically hear Peter shrugging, the way he always does, like kindness and empathy are never a finite resource for him. _“At least I know what happened to my parents, you know?”_

Harley is officially the shittiest person on the face of this shitty shitty planet. “Oh, crap, I didn’t mean – sorry.”

_“It’s fine, dude, honestly. I can’t imagine what I’d do if May just…”_

“I don’t even know why I care!” Harley explodes out of his chair, sending it skidding across the room and crashing into the bed – sometimes his, sometimes Peter’s, sometimes both. “I mean, she obviously doesn’t, right? And, fine, whatever, coming back was hard, but so was staying! So was being split up from my sister and adopted out halfway across the country! So was sitting in a group home for weeks until Tony tracked me down. I just…why am I trying? I told myself it was for Ellie, because she’s younger, she doesn’t remember our dad leaving, but she’s fine, she’s happy with her new family. I…I don’t know.”

Peter is silent for a long moment. _“Maybe because you want answers.”_

Harley, ever prepared for battle, deflates at his calm response. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a scratching noise at the door and Chewie trots in, completely oblivious to what he’s just interrupted. Harley wishes he was a dog sometimes.

“Hey, boy.”

Tony peeks his head in. “Knock, knock?”

“Did you _actually_ just fucking say ‘knock, knock’?”

_“No, what–?”_

“No, Tony’s here.”

_“Oh. Yeah, no, that tracks.”_

“We wondered if you’d fallen off your chair.” Tony observes the carnage with no small amount of amusement. “At least, that’s what it sounded like from below.”

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

“Don’t worry.” Tony sits on the bed, patting it to get Chewie to jump up beside him. “That Peter?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah.” Harley puts the call on speaker. “Helicopter Dad is here.”

_“Hi, Mr Stark!”_

“Mr Parker!” Tony gives Harley an indignant look. “Might I suggest you start heading home soon? Your aunt and I agreed on a strict curfew of midnight to fix your sleep schedule before school starts.”

“And Helicopter Dad springs into action without a second’s hesitation.”

“Harley, I can and will disown you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

Nice one, Keener. Killed the mood and set its bloody corpse on fire.

“You didn’t find anything,” Tony guesses.

“Don’t know what I expected, honestly.”

“Take a break, kid.” Tony scratches the top of Chewie’s head. “This might sound harsh, but you don’t owe her shit.”

“I just wanna know _why_,” Harley whines, and suddenly he’s twelve years old again, recounting his life story to a bloodied and bruised Tony Stark in his garage. “I was in my workshop when everyone came back. I was in the fucking town. Ellie’s not even an hour drive away. Why couldn’t she just come and talk to us?”

“I don’t know, buddy.” They’ve come so far since, “Dads leave. No need to be a pussy about it.”

“Gotta be a record, right? Both parents walking out on me?” Harley flops onto the bed next to Tony. Instantly, four little paws clamber onto his stomach. “It’s okay, Chewie, I didn’t need my pancreas anyway.”

“Listen…” Tony sighs. “It’s all about what you want, Harley. If you want to track her down to the ends of the earth, I’ll help you. If you want to sell the house, workshop and all, and move back in here, I’ll help you. We’ll all help you, okay? You’ve still got a family, whatever happens.”

Harley turns his head to smile in thanks, but Chewie jabs a paw into his cheek and it turns into a grimace. 

“Chewie approves, clearly.”

_“I’m back home now,”_ Peter says_. “But – yeah. What Mr Stark said, Harley. You’re an honorary Parker now, too. Uh, I gotta go. Love you guys.”_

“Love you, kid.”

“Thanks, Parker.” Harley drops his phone somewhere behind his head and blows out a long breath. “Sorry. I know Morgan’s birthday is coming up and you’re gonna miss Peter now he’s left. You shouldn’t have to worry about me, too.”

“Me adopting you didn’t magically end when you turned eighteen,” Tony whispers. “You’re still my kid.”

“I’m twenty-two, though. I should have shit figured out by now.”

“Bullshit,” Tony says. “I didn’t figure anything out until I was nearly forty.”

“Eh.” Harley waves a hand, stopping when Chewie tries to lick it. “Extenuating circumstances.”

“And this isn’t?”

“I don’t know…I…” Harley groans. “Ugh. Words.”

Tony snorts. “Right. Anyway, while you’re recovering your use of the English language, why don’t you get ready for bed? Being tired will do nothing for you. Come on, Chewie.”

Chewie whines and lies down on Harley’s chest.

“Can he stay?”

“If Pepper asks, it was all your idea.” Tony gets up to leave, ruffling Harley’s hair as he does.

That’s about as far as they go. Harley doesn’t do physical affection the way Peter does, doesn’t think he has enough pieces of himself left to lose. They both love people like they’re scared it’s the last time they’ll see them, but Harley hides what Peter won’t.

“Love you, kid.”

“Night, Tony.”

* * *

Here’s what happened.

Melissa Keener faded away at work, halfway through pouring a customer’s coffee.

When she, along with half the universe, came back – Blipped – she stared at her empty hand for a second, presumably looking for the missing coffee pot, before walking straight out of the door and out of town.

Although Ellie had been with her adoptive parents, Harley was at home – not the lake house, but the childhood home Tony had kept for him, barely a five minute walk away from the diner. She didn’t even say goodbye before she disappeared.

* * *

_“Harley.”_

“Peter.”

_“I think I’m in love.”_

“Okay…” Harley closes his browser window and gives the video call his full attention. “I mean, you’re sixteen, but continue.”

_“Have I told you about MJ?”_

“A little?”

Peter looks like he’s lying flat on his bed in May’s apartment, eyes half-closed in hormonal bliss_. “She’s, like, so scary, but really smart, and awesome, and–“_

“Yeah, you’re totally in love.”

_“Like today, we were in gym, which is always funny, because she brings a book in no matter what we’re doing…”_

Harley listens to him talk, lets it soothe the stress headache that seems to have a permanent hold on him nowadays.

_“…and she, like, totally told Flash–“_

“Anything happen on your first day of school that wasn’t MJ-centric?”

Peter is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, it’s more hesitant than before. _“It was…weird, dude. Like, so many of my friends are still the same age, but, like, a girl from my Chem class is married, and these dorky little kids that were in middle school are in my homeroom. I don’t…it’s just weird.”_

“Yeah, I can understand.” His little sister, forever a baby in his eyes, is Peter’s age. His mom walked out of the diner exactly the same as she had been five years earlier.

“Hey, kid!” Tony pops his head over Harley’s shoulder, because he’s still incapable of going more than a day without talking to Peter.

“Okay, he wants to speak to you. Guess I’ll see you in, like, six hours.”

_“No! Harley, don’t leave me! Harley!”_

* * *

Dinner is always quiet nowadays, without Harley and Peter sniping at each other; Tony can never tell if they’re being serious or not, even with himself and Rhodey to use as a reference point, but he still misses it. 

“So, M,” Harley says, “what do you want to do tonight?”

“Can we watch a movie? You never watch movies with us anymore.”

“Sure. What you wanna watch?”

“Umm…_Lion King_.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Tony says. “I’m just gonna call Peter.”

Harley stares at him in disbelief. “You were talking to him three hours ago!”

“Just…checking in.”

“Oh, my God. We don’t call you Helicopter Dad for the sh–“ Harley’s gaze cuts to Morgan. “For fun, you know.”

“Pep, I’m being bullied. In my own home. This is outrageous.” Is Tony hovering? Is it annoying? He finds it reassuring, but what if he’s being too much? 

Pepper just laughs, rather than offering any kind of defence, and ushers Morgan into the kitchen.

“Is it bullying if it’s true?” Harley asks.

“I hate you.”

Harley sticks his tongue out, because he’s a five-year-old masquerading as a twenty-two-year-old MIT graduate.

“Get cleaned up, you heathen. It’s movie night.”

With another smirk, Harley heads to the kitchen with his plate, Chewie trotting at his heels.

“And don’t feed him your leftovers!” Tony calls. It’s probably futile, but at least Pepper can’t say he didn’t try. Frankie thumps her tail on the floor when Tony stands. “What’s up, hm? You miss Peter?”

She whines and sticks her tongue out. 

“Oh, so you’re channelling Harley, I see.” Tony strokes the top of her head. “It’s okay. I miss him, too.”

He heads into the movie with high hopes: it’s the first night in a long time Harley hasn’t disappeared into his room after dinner; the call with Peter earlier had cheered him up no end; it’s fucking Disney, for crying out loud.

Correction: sad Disney. Very very very sad Disney.

Not that Harley singing ‘Circle of Life’ loudly and obnoxiously while holding Chewie above his head like the baby Simba isn’t hilarious, or that him dancing with Morgan to ‘Just Can’t Wait to be King’ isn’t the cutest thing Tony’s seen since Peter showed up with his hair in his eyes and two puppies in his arms, but this safari version of Shakespeare is still tragically sad.

“Dad? Dad, come on.”

Oh, crap.

“You gotta get up.”

_“Mr Stark? Hey, Mr Stark, are you–? Oh, God.”_

_“It’s fine,” he’d said, “it’s fine, Peter, don’t look at it.”_

_“That’s – it’s–“ The kid had been trembling. Of course he was; he’d just had his first real battle as an Avenger, first real taste of aliens and space and real, world-ending threats, and they’d lost. “You–“_

“We gotta go home.”

_And Tony was bleeding all over the red dirt of an alien planet. He’d sealed the wound, forcing back a shout of pain; no need to freak the kid out any more than he already was._

_“Can you get up? You gotta get up.” Peter held his hands out, flitting them everywhere like he wasn’t sure what to do with them, and Tony accepted the help with a grunt. Peter kept him steady, one hand on Tony’s back. “Mr Stark…”_

_He sounded scared, lost, and Tony wished he could comfort him with something that wasn’t a lie. He wished he could promise the kid he’d get them home, but he wasn’t even sure he’d live through the next five minutes._

_The irony of that thought._

“Honey?” Pepper says quietly, and he turns to find her watching him with concern. Harley is, too, but he’s doing his best to keep Morgan entertained.

“I’m good,” Tony promises, “don’t worry.”

Pepper squeezes his hand, but doesn’t say anything else.

The mood improves considerably after ‘Hakuna Matata’, and Tony takes the opportunity to slip out to the kitchen and get a glass of water. “Fri, what’s Peter doing right now?”

_“He is on patrol.”_

“Anything imminently dangerous happening?”

_“I’d say he could afford to be distracted.”_

She knows too much. “All right. Call him.”

_“Right away, Boss.”_

_“Hi, Mr Stark!”_ Thankfully, FRIDAY has the foresight to switch the call to Tony’s cell rather than projecting it around the kitchen. 

Tony laughs. Funny how the sound of Peter’s voice is so instantly soothing. “So, today isn’t the magical day when you start calling me by my God-given name.”

_“Your Peter-given name is better,_” the kid says, and who’s Tony to argue with that? _“So what’s up?”_

“Why does something have to be up? Is it not enough to know that Iron Man himself is calling you?”

_“You call me every day, Mr Stark. It seems like you barely finished interrogating me about school.”_

Maybe Tony _is_ hovering. “Interrogating? I’m showing an interest.”

_“In high school? Can I borrow your enthusiasm, please?”_

“Hey, less of that. You love school.”

_“I do! But after everything, it feels a bit…”_

“Boring?”

_“Mundane.”_

“Ooh, good word for someone who prefers science.”

_“Why, thank you.”_ He can practically hear Peter taking a sarcastic bow. _“Seriously, Mr Stark, is everything okay? Harley texted me you were all watching a movie.”_

“Uh, yeah. _The Lion King.”_

_“Oh, good choice.”_

“Yeah, well…sometimes it…” Tony sighs. “Hits a bit close to home.”

_“…oh.”_

“Yeah. Don’t worry, kid, it’s nothing. Go back to saving the world one neighbourhood at a time–“

_“I didn’t tell you about the time I tried to watch _Moana_ with Ned,”_ Peter says suddenly.

“Why does ‘tried’ sound like the operative word in there?”

_“‘Cause there’s this one scene where, like, she sees her parents and her home and everything starts…it all turns to dust. And I – I saw everyone else go before I started – anyway, I nearly jumped out the window. Ned had about seven heart attacks.”_

“Kid…”

_“It’s not nothing, Mr Stark,”_ Peter says firmly, before his voice warms with traces of a smile. _“We’ve seen some shit.”_

“We have.” Tony clears his throat. “Hey, uh, Frankie misses you.” The speaker is suddenly filled with Peter cooing, as if the dog can actually hear him. “I’m giving her lots of strokes.”

_“Mr Stark, give her _all_ the kisses from me. And cuddles.”_

“Sure, kid. Speak to you tomorrow, probably. And see you in a couple of weeks. Morgan’s birthday, yeah?”

_“How could I forget? Harley and I are gonna have the _best_ present for her.”_

“Parker, if it’s another animal, I swear…”

_“You know, cats can be pretty self-sufficient but they’re also super affectionate–“_

“Peter!” 

_“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s not a cat.”_

Tony glowers, hoping it translates through the phone.

_“Anyway, house rabbits are really good pets for kids Morgan’s age–“_ Peter dissolves into laughter at Tony’s strangled screech. _“Okay, okay, no animals, I swear. It’s a surprise, though.”_

“Hmm.”

_“Yeah, ‘hmm’ all you want. It’s still gonna be a surprise.”_

How the hell did Tony get through five years without Peter chattering in his ears at all hours of the day? He’s about to voice this when Peter sucks in a breath. “Everything good, Pete?”

_“Got a robbery. I’d better go. Speak to you soon, Mr Stark.”_

“Be safe, kiddo. Love you.” God, it’s so _easy_ to say now. What if they’d never fixed it? Would he have lived his rest of his life regretting that Peter never knew? Tony shakes himself and shoves those thoughts away.

_“Love you too!”_ And how easily Peter says it back, how lucky he is.

Pepper comes in just as Tony hangs up, either through impeccable timing or infinite tact; he appreciates it nonetheless. “Everything all right?”

Tony smiles. “Everything’s perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...not for long :)


	5. surprises! (but not the good kind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend before Morgan’s fifth birthday, Peter visits, claiming puppy withdrawals and an urgent need to use the lab, in private (but with Harley), no interruptions. Tony barely has time to hug him before Harley drags him away, never to be seen again, or at least for the rest of Friday night.
> 
> If they keep this up, Tony decides as he walks downstairs on Saturday morning, he’s going to have Peter withdrawals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> randomly posting in the middle of the week here we fucking goooo
> 
> i'm also posting a new au on friday that i'm really excited about and it's shaping up to be super long, so look out for that!

The weekend before Morgan’s fifth birthday, Peter visits, claiming puppy withdrawals and an urgent need to use the lab, in private (but with Harley), no interruptions. Tony barely has time to hug him before Harley drags him away, never to be seen again, or at least for the rest of Friday night.

If they keep this up, Tony decides as he walks downstairs on Saturday morning, he’s going to have Peter withdrawals.

“Hey, hon.”

“Mornin’.”

“Coffee’s on.”

“Mm, thank you. Are the boys up?

Pepper nods.

“Wait, really?” Two adolescent boys are awake before ten on a Saturday?

“Yep. They said they wanted to make Morgan a present.”

“That does ring a bell, now you mention it.”

“They’re out in the workshop.” A timer goes off. “Could you get them, actually?”

“Sure.”

Tony isn’t sure what he expects to find when he trudges out to the garage with his trusty mug of coffee, but he’s prepared for a least a little mess, ranging to a lot. There’s probably noise, too: music, tools, the verbal abuse that seems to qualify as banter for their generation.

He isn’t expecting utter, deathly silence.

Their backs are turned, but he can tell it’s bad. Peter has a hand pressed over his mouth, and Harley is practically quivering with rage.

Peter turns first, probably alerted by his heightened senses, and Tony stops suddenly, because Peter’s crying, what the _fuck_–?

“…_brings me on to favour number two: look after Morgan for me. She’s not gonna understand, not at first. I wish I didn’t have to miss her growing up. I regret that already, not being there for her, but if this works…how can I regret pulling it off? How can I regret all my kids being safe and alive and together?” _That’s him, or a projection of him, smiling sadly into the distance.

Oh, shit.

“Pause, FRIDAY.” Harley whips around. “What the fuck is that?”

“I…” Tony doesn’t have an answer, because he never even considered that this might happen, that the world where he lived and the world where he died might collide. “Look, you don’t…how’d you even find this?”

“We wanted to record a message for Morgan,” Peter says. “FRIDAY said that helmet had recording capacity, so we…and…”

“‘Hey, kid’,” Harley quotes sourly, “‘thought I’d better do this separate from the others, you know? Kind of because they’re here right now.’ ‘Keener. You done being mad yet?’”

“You weren’t supposed to see that–“

Harley’s glare is scorching. “Unless you died, though, right?”

Here’s the thing: Tony knew it could have gone badly. In fact, he’d been certain of it. What other conclusion was he supposed to come to, when Strange’s one way hinged on keeping him alive, for the price of losing, losing half the universe, losing _Peter_?

So of course he recorded goodbyes he was afraid he wouldn’t get to deliver in person, the _I love you_’s he might never have the chance to say.

Besides, it had always been Tony before, always him carrying the bomb, the city, the moon on his back. He’s just glad that his friends, his team hadn’t let him down; all those heroes, fighters, warriors, kings, aliens, gods hadn’t left him to shoulder the universe alone.

“You were ready to die,” Harley says.

“I was…concerned that it might be a possibility, yes.” Okay, he’s talking weird. Nervous. Don’t be nervous. “I mean – I was travelling through time to find dangerous crystals that contained the power of the cosmos as we know it, to reverse the most devastating catastrophe to ever befall the universe–“

“You did _not_ just say befall.”

“–and the survivability…well, it didn’t look great. Come on.” Tony turns to Peter. _Please understand, you have to understand_. “I made over five hundred webshooter combinations in your first suit, Pete. I plan things. I plan for _all_ the things. I have contingencies, failsafes. That’s what I do, okay? And that.” He gestures to the helmet, still resting on the work table. “That was just one of them.”

“I told you–” Peter’s voice wobbles; he sounds very young all of a sudden. “I told you I was scared you’d worn the gauntlet. What if you had? How would we–?”

“I was scared I might have to as well,” Tony says, “and I was scared it might kill me, but most of all, I was scared I wouldn’t get to say goodbye. Hence…”

“I wouldn’t have let you,” Peter says. “I had it – I could’ve put it on. I could’ve–“

“No,” Tony snaps. He thinks of Carol, of all her godlike strength, still brought to her knees by the sheer power of the Stones, raw energy crawling up her arms in scorching tendrils – and then, because his brain hates him, Peter’s in her place, burning and screaming– “If you’d even thought about trying…” He breathes in slowly, pinches the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter, okay? It didn’t happen. Breakfast is ready.”

Neither of them move.

“Boys…”

“Don’t ever pull that shit again,” Harley says fiercely. “The world needs Tony Stark.”

“He can’t promise that,” Peter mumbles, his eyes fixed on the floor. Of course he understands, understands the responsibility Tony feels. He’s never been able to make that promise, either.

But maybe Tony can. The world can spin on without him; he made sure of it.

“Nothing so recklessly suicidal again, I promise. Not unless family is involved.”

Peter flinches.

“Come on. There’s bacon and sausages. Better get there before the dogs do.” Tony holds out his arms and this time they lurch forward, tall and gangly and yet to grow into their bodies but still just children, his children. One arm wrapped around each of them, he starts back towards the house, careful not to spill his coffee down Harley’s shirt. “I’m sorry you saw that. You weren’t supposed to.”

Peter turns his face into Tony’s shoulder, and if he was starting to regret saying yes to Steve…well, there’s his reason not to right there.

* * *

Sunday mornings should be quiet, Harley decides. It should be illegal to talk on Sunday mornings.

Peter, deep into the period of eternal sleep deprivation otherwise known as the teen years, understands this. Tony, despite consuming more caffeine on a daily basis than even Harley, doesn’t.

“Boys.”

“What’s up?” Peter says. He’s perceptive today. Well, he’s generally more perceptive than Harley anyway, but especially before coffee.

“Look.” Tony stops and sighs. “Just…thinking about what I said yesterday, about contingencies. There’s one more, and you’re probably gonna hate it, but I want to give it to you for my own peace of mind.”

“Okay…?”

“So. Workshop.”

Harley makes sure to fill his mug before he traipses after them.

Even half-awake, he can tell that Tony is nervous, fidgeting with his fingers as he tells FRIDAY to open the garage.

“What is this?” Peter asks. “Are we getting a present too? Because this isn’t really how birthdays work, Mr Stark–“

Tony almost cracks a smile. Almost. “Just say your name. Full name.”

“Uhh, Peter Parker.”

“Harley Keener.”

“Okay, and now say Edith.”

“Edith?” Peter says.

_“Hello, Peter. Welcome.”_

“Hi? Are you, like, Karen 2.0 or something?”

_“Something like that.”_

“And more,” Tony adds. He’s hovering in the doorway, hesitant to join them. “She’s a state-of-the-art defence system. Drones, satellites – everything. I made her for – in case I ever–“

_“Tony created me so that, in the event of his passing, you would still have assistance,”_ EDITH says cheerfully, as if Tony goes around expecting death to take him at any second.

Actually, yeah, he definitely does that.

“What’s it stand for?” Peter says.

Tony starts. “What?”

“Mr Stark, everything stands for something with you. What does it mean?”

_“Even Dead, I’m the Hero.”_ EDITH is extraordinarily chirpy about this; clearly, she doesn’t have the ability to read a room like FRIDAY does.

Peter’s face crumples. “…oh.”

“Even dead, I have an ego the size of a planet,” Harley mutters.

“Even dead, my family is safe.” Tony finally crosses the threshold, like the threatening sight of Peter about to cry overcame his brief stint as a vampire. “Even dead, they have some protection. Even dead, I can help with the next world-ending threat. Even dead, I have Spider-Man’s back. Even dead, I’m not leaving them alone.” He pauses, composes himself. “Harley, say EDITH.”

“EDITH,” Harley says dutifully. “Does this mean I get to help Peter on patrol now?”

_“Hello, Harley. I can access any linked Spider-Man suits, but only in an emergency.”_

Peter manages a shaky laugh. “Already have a guy in the chair. Sorry.”

“Blasphemy.”

“_Listen_.” It’s firm but pleading all at once. “I hope you never have to use this, okay? Either of you. I’m still here, for one, and for another, I don’t want you anywhere near the next apocalypse. This is a…it’s just in case. But I promised Pep, and now you – I’m staying away from the fights, as much as I can, taking fewer risks next time. EDITH is gonna pick up my slack.”

Peter nods. “Will there be a next time?”

“I think so,” Tony says quietly, and Harley has to look away from the sheer horror in his eyes. Losing Peter had nearly destroyed him; Harley knows he won’t survive it again, never mind anything worse. “There’s always a bigger fish, right?”

The moment breaks when Harley thumps Peter in the shoulder.

“Ow, dude!”

“_What_ have I told you about the Star Wars prequels?”

* * *

After shovelling down more food than Tony thought possible, even after knowing Peter for years, both boys disappear into the lab for the rest of the day. It’s nearly dinner time when Tony hears two tired sets of footsteps dragging their owners up the stairs.

“I’m gonna go speak to them,” Tony says quietly. They’ve both been avoiding talking to him all day, but especially Peter.

“Oh, while you’re there.” Pepper taps the back of the couch to get his attention. “I wonder if now might be a good time to ask Peter about…”

“Oh, that thing?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Yeah, I mean…I haven’t spoken with May about it since before – you know.”

Pepper nods. “At least ask. Open the conversation.”

“Yeah. Will do.”

The boys’ room is almost suspiciously quiet when he knocks on the door, neither of them even grunting out a greeting.

“Hello? Anything alive in there?”

“Debatable.”

“Okay, so I have a Keener. Any Parkers?”

“Just come in, old man,” Harley says. “You lost the ability to pretend like you don’t care a long time ago.”

_That’s fair_, Tony supposes as he opens the door. He’s greeted by Harley horizontal on the bed and Peter hanging upside down from a single web, his feet pressed together and his knees bent.

“What…?” He’s seen Peter do this before, of course, but never out of his suit. “Hey.”

Peter grunts, twisting so he swivels away from Tony like a dangling marionette. Creepy.

“Hey, kid. This is important. How the hell do you sleep like that?” Tony looks at Harley for help. “Does he do this often?”

Harley shrugs, not looking up from his phone, which is all the answer Tony needs.

“Jesus, it’s creepy. Like a bat. Did you go with the wrong brand, Spider-ling?”

“Don’ call me tha’,” Peter mumbles.

“Well, someone’s chatty today.”

“Nappin’. Go ‘way.”

“You let Harley in here.”

“‘S’his room too. ‘N he doesn’t talk.”

“Do you want me to text you? Because this isn’t really a text message kind of conversation.”

Harley picks up on his tone, finally glancing away from whatever riveting social media is commanding his attention. “Do you want me to leave?”

Tony’s about to tell him no, of course not, there are no secrets in this family, but quickly changes his mind. “Actually, yeah. This is gonna be Peter’s decision. I don’t want you putting him off.”

“Whatever, old man.” Harley leaves with a smirk and a lazy peace sign. “Later.”

“What’s up?” Peter mumbles.

“Yeah, can you…get down? Also not an upside-down kind of conversation.”

“Mm. Fine.” Peter lets go of his web and drops, flipping at the last second; this, of course, does nothing for Tony’s heart. He straightens from his crouch, hair tousled, blinking owlishly. “‘Sup?”

“Don’t tell Pep you use webs in the house, either.”

That wakes Peter up. “Oh, shit – sorry.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Tony sits in the chair Harley had abandoned, waits for Peter to perch on the bed. 

“Is everything okay?”

“You tell me,” Tony says gently. “You’ve been quiet all day.”

Peter looks down.

“Is it EDITH?” Tony ducks his head, trying to keep Peter’s gaze. “The videos?”

A small nod.

“Okay. You know I’m here, kid. Nothing happened–“

“But it could have!” Peter bursts out. “It could have – and it would’ve been because of me.”

“Peter!”

“No, Mr Stark – you had all of this.” Peter throws his arms around the room, as if ‘all of this’ consists of Star Wars posters and Harley’s old college textbooks gathering dust in the corner. “You didn’t have to do that. If you’d died…that would’ve been on me.”

Something in Tony shatters. “Pete…”

“I came back and you kept saying you figured out time travel because of me–“

“Ah-ah. _For_ you.”

“For me.” Peter shakes his head. “I’m not–“

_Peter_. “If you say you’re not worth it, Parker…”

Peter stays quiet, which only confirms Tony’s fears.

“Hey.” He leaves the chair and sits beside Peter on the bed. “Look at me.” Peter does, his eyes wide and pleading, _please, Mr Stark_. “If it had been Pep, Happy, Rhodey, Harley, I still would’ve done it. Understand? Because I need my family, Peter, I need all of you. You were gone and I…couldn’t. Okay? I love you.”

Peter nods, smirks. “I know.”

“Han Solo me again, brat, and I’ll write you out of my will.”

Peter snorts, looking happier than he has all day. Mission accomplished.

Tony remembers why he wanted this conversation in the first place. “Anyway, speaking of inheritance and all that fun stuff…”

“You promised not to die.”

“Yeah, no. No dying.”

“Good.”

_Now or never_. “Listen, before Thanos, before everything, your aunt and I were talking – actually, I should probably make sure she’s still okay with it. Um, what was I saying?” It’s ridiculous that he’s this nervous. “Yeah, it mightn’t have been so easy before, but laws about guardianship and adoption are a bit muddy now, for better or worse. Would you be entirely opposed to the idea of…?” Tony gestures to himself.

Peter blinks, frowns in confusion. “Wait, what? You want to…”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” Tony says. “It’s your decision.”

“But you and May think it’s a good idea.”

“We do.” Tony nods. “You’ll still be May’s kid. This just makes it easier if something happens, God forbid, when she’s too far away, that kind of thing. We both know Spider-Man isn’t exactly risk-free.”

“I’ll be your kid?” Peter asks.

“You’re already my kid. This just makes it legal.”

Peter nods. “Then yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tony smiles and rests his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, pulling him close to press a kiss against his temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear when i drafted these chapters far from home was like chapter 5. it's now sitting at 7 and might come even later so. sorry lol. it's happening eventually!
> 
> fun fact: the dialogue for tony's hologram comes from my two post-endgame fics 'message in a tin can' and ''cause we're connected', but tissue warnings for both of them


	6. tony's kids are going to give him an inferiority complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s my last day ever as a four-year-old!”
> 
> “It is! Isn’t it cool?” Peter laughs, bouncing Morgan in his arms.
> 
> “So cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one today because i'm getting ready for october! guess who's trying to juggle whumptober and hallowe'en prompts? ya girl lmao. i might try and do another bingo before i get sucked into the void that is moving back to uni
> 
> i actually did maths to work out when morgan's birthday might be pls appreciate

“Peter Peter Peter!”

“Morgan Morgan Morgan!” Peter all but dives out of the car and scoops her up as she barrels towards him.

“It’s my last day _ever_ as a four-year-old!”

“It is! Isn’t it cool?”

“So cool.”

Peter laughs, bouncing her in his arms as he waits for May and Happy to get out of the car.

They’re taking a while.

“Hey, Underoos.” Mr Stark approaches slower than Morgan, but no less enthusiastic, and kisses Peter on the temple. “Ready for a weekend of utter madness?”

“A whole weekend, huh?” He sticks out his tongue at Morgan. “Just hogging the twenty-seventh wasn’t enough for you?”

“It’s not every day you turn five, is it, Mongoose?” Mr Stark leans around them and raps on the car window. “You guys know you’re here, right?”

May jumps out, looking a little flustered. “Yes! Yes, we just…were talking.”

“Talking, huh?”

“Thanks, Boss,” Happy says dryly.

“Grown-ups are weird,” Morgan whispers in Peter’s ear as he carries her towards the house.

“They sure are,” Peter agrees. He doesn’t understand why Harley is cackling on the porch.

* * *

Tony wakes up to frantic whispering outside his bedroom door. He wouldn’t care usually, unless he was already suspicious of a Harley-led conspiracy, except it’s not even six. In the fucking morning.

“Careful, _careful_ – Harley!”

“Oh, shit shit shit–!” Something heavy thuds to the floor and, disconcertingly, rolls, before there’s a quick _hiss-thwip_ and twin sighs of relief.

“Too close,” Peter sighs. “I’m running on pure adrenaline here, man. We gotta get this set up before I crash.”

Tony gets out of bed and pads to the door.

“How d’you think I feel? Haven’t had any coffee yet.”

“Fuck, you’re turning into Mr Stark.”

“There are worse things to be.”

Peter hums in agreement.

“Shit, now you’re turning me soft. Let’s get this over with. That was the sleep deprivation talking, understand?”

A snort.

Tony chooses that moment to open the door. He tries to do it as quietly as possible; Peter, with his heightened senses and superhuman reflexes, doesn’t so much as blink, while Harley nearly falls down the stairs.

“Shit, man!”

“He’s been listening for a while,” Peter says, unconcerned.

“Oh, fuck you–“

“Little ears,” Tony warns them, “and also what the fuck are you doing outside my bedroom at six in the morning?”

Peter makes a face like that information should be obvious. “Setting up the surprise.”

“The surprise?” Tony looks, for the first time, at what they’re holding. Peter has a strange white and orange sphere a little smaller than a soccer ball, and Harley is cradling a similar-looking thing against his chest.

“It’s for M,” Harley says as Peter puts his strange ball down.

“Wait…” It’s starting to look familiar. “It’s not that _Star Wars_ robot, is it?”

Peter nods happily, holding the bottom piece in place so Harley can put the head on.

“This is what you’ve been working on for weeks?” Tony steps closer, admiring the detail on each little panel. It’s a stunning replica, even scaled down. “This is…amazing.”

“Just wait.” Peter, far too chipper for this time of morning, grins and reaches for a button on the side of the model, and it whirs to life.

“Holy shit.”

“Little ears,” Harley mumbles.

“It’s me. I’m the little ears.” Peter pats the top of the robot. “But yeah. It works.”

“You two made this?”

“Well, mostly. Obviously, Harley’s a literal mechanical engineer, and we’ve both spent enough time with you in the lab. Ned helped with some of the coding and MJ did the design. It’s kinda from all of us. I think she’ll like it, though.”

The robot beeps and rolls back and forth. With all the noise, Tony’s amazed they’re the only ones awake.

“Like it? Pete, she’s gonna love it.” He pulls Peter close with one arm, reaching out to Harley with the other. (Harley must be tired, because he falls into the hug without even a token protest.) “She’s a little Star Wars nerd, just like you.”

“Yeah, can I just clarify I had nothing to do with that?”

_Oh, but you did_. Tony had watched those movies with Morgan since she could comprehend the world around her, once the dreadful loss had dulled and he could whisper, “Your brother loved these movies,” to her without breaking. He hugs Peter a little tighter.

“Nah, no credit for you this time, Parker,” Harley says, his voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder.

“Look, boys, I love the enthusiasm, but why don’t we take this downstairs? That way, we won’t wake Pepper up and we might live to see breakfast.”

They both tilt their heads back at the exact same time and give him identical sheepish looks.

“Yeah, that–“

“That would have made more–“

“Much more sense.”

“We’re all stupid before coffee,” Tony assures them. Coffee – he wants some. Rhodey and Happy can just suffer through being woken up early: bonus of being demoted to the couches. May lucked out, getting the camp bed in the dining room.

Peter wriggles out of his grip and picks the robot up. It trills excitedly. “Shh, dude!”

“His name is BB-8,” Harley says, already halfway down the stairs. “Oh, hello, puppy! Good morning! I know it’s early, I’m sorry. Quiet – there’s people asleep on the couches.”

Peter freezes.

_Okay…_ “What’s up, kid?”

“We didn’t show this to the dogs. They’re going to freak.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

Peter, as usual, is right; there’s lots of barking and growling, too much for even Morgan to sleep through. Pepper spends the morning visibly plotting a triple homicide, but at least Morgan likes her present. Loves it, in fact.

* * *

“I feel inadequate,” Tony announces over breakfast. “I got outdone by four teenagers on my daughter’s fifth birthday. Am I a bad father?”

“Or we’re just awesome brothers,” Harley suggests with a shit-eating grin. He’s perfected them over the years.

BB-8 beeps happily and rolls into Tony’s chair. Frankie growls.

“Hey!” Peter scolds her. “That robot is your friend now.”

“‘Friends’ might be stretching it, baby,” May says.

“More like competition,” Happy says, and grins when May laughs.

_Huh_. Harley narrows his eyes. _Interesting_.

Tony smacks his leg under the table and Chewie barks.

“Bit of a madhouse here, Tones,” Rhodey laughs.

“A bit?”

“Oh, you love us!” Harley croons.

“You, not so much right now. The correlation between a mech eng degree and a fully functioning robot is too high to ignore.”

BB-8 whacks Tony’s chair again, this time with an excited, “Wheeeee!” Frankie sits up and howls in response.

“Oh, my _God_.”

Morgan, at least, is having a wonderful time, giggling as BB-8 makes its drunken way around the table. Ned and Peter, with Karen’s help, had programmed a basic AI that recognised Morgan as the main person in charge.

“It’s like when you get the dogs a squeaky toy,” Pepper muses, sipping orange juice. “It’s fun until it’s not.”

“Yeah, I think we’ve reached ‘it’s not’.”

“It can be turned off,” Peter offers. He pats the robot’s round head when it passes his chair.

Tony perks up. “Oh?”

“Yeah, but only by me, Harley or Morgan.”

“Oh.”

Chewie finally gets tired of glaring at BB-8 and hops up into Harley’s lap.

“Harley, don’t let him do that.”

“You spoil that dog, you know that, right?”

“Bacon!” Peter yelps, his arm shooting out and yanking Harley’s plate out of reach just in time.

It’s chaos. Harley loves it. It’s exactly the kind of family he’s always wanted, but exactly the kind he lost all hope of having when his dad walked out the door.

Well, screw that. He has a new dad now.

Thanks to their present being the best but also the worst, Peter and Harley get banished to the kitchen to do most of the cleaning. Peter, as it turns out, is an expert at balancing far too many dishes in piles that are far too tall and, on a completely unrelated note, giving Harley a heart attack.

Once he recovers from the shock of watching the life of several china bowls flash before his eyes, Harley notices Tony, all nervous fidgeting hands and uncertain smiles, beckon May onto the porch.

As the older brother, he is, of course, honour-bound to warn Peter of any impending trouble. “_Dude_, Tony’s talking to May. What have you done?”

“Hm?” Peter hops onto the counter so he can reach the top shelf. “Oh, um, Tony wants to adopt me.”

“Dammit. Now there’s less inheritance to go around.” Harley smirks when Peter flips him off.

“You’re horrible.” Peter shuts the cupboard and starts to clamber off the countertop, but freezes halfway down. Like, both of his feet stuck to the bottom cupboards while he reaches for the shelves.

“What?”

When he pulls his arm back, he’s holding a picture in a simple black frame. Harley leans over and recognises Peter and a much younger Tony, both of them throwing up bunny ears like nobody’s business.

“This is where it went.” Peter’s voice is hushed. “I thought – it’s been here? For five years?”

“Closer to six,” Harley says, “but yeah.”

“…oh.”

Morgan skips in, BB-8 trundling behind her with dogged loyalty. “Daddy always told me not to touch that.”

“This picture?”

“Uh-huh. He said I could look but not touch. Sometimes he’d pick it up and cuddle it when he was crying, like how I cuddle my soft Spider-Man when I’m sad.”

“Did he?”

“Yep.” And then she deposits her glass and plate on top of the already huge pile of dirty dishes and bounces out again. Harley wishes he were five.

Peter doesn’t speak after that, but he replaces the photo and carries on drying and putting away. When Tony comes back in, he walks straight over and falls into his arms.

“Whoa! Hey.” Tony hugs him back. “Anyway, all good. Got the blessing from May–“

“You never stopped having it,” May says. “That conversation wasn’t nearly as long ago for me as it was for you.”

“Yeah, it was a long time ago.” Tony frowns as Peter burrows further into his chest. “What? What’s wrong? Did you break one of Pepper’s dishes?” When he doesn’t get an answer, he mouths, “What?” at Harley.

Harley just shrugs. This is a Tony-and-Peter thing. They’ll work it out in their own time.

“All right, well, leave those for now. Hap’s getting a fire going, because it’s January and _some_ of us can’t thermoregulate, and then we’ll do Madam Secretary’s cake.”

“Sure.” Harley tugs Peter out of Tony’s arms and towards the living room. “Come along, fellow Stark spawn. Maybe we should show Morgan where the off switch is.”

“Yeah, you’re so far beyond ‘maybe’,” Tiny warns, but there’s a laugh in his voice.

Harley plops down on a cushion in front of the fire, pulling Peter down with him, and grins when Chewie climbs into his lap. Frankie curls up on Peter’s.

“A fire?” Pepper says. “Really, Happy? We’ll be asleep before lunchtime.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Happy mutters, shooting a glare at Harley and Peter.

“Hey!”

“Not our fault the dogs didn’t like it.” Harley leans back against the couch, letting Peter rest on his legs.

He tries to imagine this without Peter, without his aunt, without the untempered happiness on Tony’s face, without the dogs, and can’t. All the pieces of this family don’t matter as long as any one of the others is missing. There was never a world where Tony didn’t invent time travel; he was physically incapable of ignoring it once the possibility was there, the potential for this to come out of the end of the world.

Pepper walks in, balancing a huge cake with five candles already burning on it, and Tony leads them all in a horrendously off-key ‘Happy Birthday’ and Harley smiles wide because he’s _home_.


	7. the perils of getting older

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Tony turns fifty-four, he wakes up to a five-year-old and two puppies that are well on their way to being dogs bouncing on his stomach while his two idiot sons fall about laughing in the doorway.
> 
> “I hate you,” he grunts as a not-so-tiny paw jabs his ribs. “You couldn’t even let me sleep in on my birthday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, dropping hints and foreshadowing all over the place: oops :))) how did that :)))) get there :))
> 
> it’s been a hot minute, and I’m SORRY. I’m in my third year of uni and life is coming at me hard.
> 
> also, anyone else’s dogs absolutely love wrapping paper and don’t give a shit about the new toy you just got them?

The day Tony turns fifty-four, he cries.

He’d grown used to approaching his birthdays with a particular sense of dread, almost exclusively related to the fact that he was another year older while Peter remained sixteen, untouched by time, out of reach except for photographs and videos and voice recordings. (This feeling also reared its head on days including, but not limited, to Peter’s birthdays, the day he was supposed to graduate high school, the day they sent Harley off to college alone – it was fun.)

This year, he wakes up to a five-year-old and two puppies that are well on their way to being dogs bouncing on his stomach while his two idiot sons fall about laughing in the doorway.

“I hate you,” he grunts as a not-so-tiny paw jabs his ribs. “You couldn’t even let me sleep in on my birthday?”

“Happy birthday, old man,” Harley says with a shit-eating grin, which has become a regular occurrence over the years.

“Happy birthday, Mr Stark!” Peter cries.

Tony bursts into tears.

Everyone freezes for a moment, the only movement the confused thumping of the dogs’ tails on the duvet. Pepper sits up, staring at him like she’s not sure what to do.

“Mr Stark?”

“You’re here,” Tony manages around a gulping sob.

“Uh, yeah? I got here last night. Don’t you remember the arguments you had with May about letting me skip a day of school for this? She called you a bad legal guardian and you got so offended–“

“No.” Tony opens his arms and Peter moves towards him instinctively. “You – God, you’re _here_.”

“Oh,” Peter says in a small voice, muffled against Tony’s chest, “yeah, Mr Stark, I’m – I’m okay. You saved me.”

_I figured out time travel for you._

Five years of milestones that Peter had missed. No more.

More arms join the hug, each pair as familiar as the last: his family.

“Why is Daddy crying?” Morgan whispers.

“‘Cause he’s happy?” Harley whispers back.

“So it’s a good cry?”

“The best cry.”

* * *

Eventually, Tony stops crying and Morgan drags the boys downstairs with the promise – or threat – of making breakfast for everyone. The dogs follow, excited by the prospect of food. Pepper leans back against her pillow and smiles.

“Fifty-four, huh?”

“Don’t,” Tony groans. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Ever think we’d get this far?”

“Sometimes I worried we wouldn’t, and definitely not with everything we have now.”

“Yeah.” Peter. The dogs. Tony himself. All of them had seemed so far out of reach at one point or another.

“And I think–“

“Marry me,” Tony blurts suddenly.

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “Uh-oh, old age is kicking in.”

“Again. Renew it. Whatever, just…let’s have a big wedding, the one we planned the first time around. May can wear that dress you two picked out together, and Peter can be the ring bearer like he was supposed to, and this time Morgan can be involved, and I won’t be hooked up to an IV–“

Pepper sits up abruptly, but all she does is tug her ring off and place it in his hand. “Go on, then.”

Tony grins. “Mrs Stark.”

“Mr Stark.”

“Would you do me the indescribable honour of marrying me? Again?”

“I suppose I’ll have to,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “Custody agreements seem like such a lot of work. Three kids and two dogs?”

“I’ll take that,” Tony says, and slides the ring back on her finger. “Don’t forget the alpaca.”

“God, I wish I could.” Pepper smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Happy birthday, Mr Stark.”

“Thank you, Mrs Stark.” He leans forward to kiss her, just as the door is flung open.

“Harley says breakfast is ready!” Morgan announces. She leans back to yell down the stairs. “Mommy and Daddy are being gross again!”

“No peace,” Tony grumbles. “Maguna, did Harley or Peter cook?”

“Both!” And then she’s gone.

“Hm. Could go either way, then.”

“Harley can cook.”

“Harley’s not the one I’m worried about. Damn, we gotta give Peter some cooking lessons – he’ll be leaving for college before we know it.” Tony stops. “Shit. College.”

“All grown up.”

“No, that’s not allowed. He’s still that dorky little idiot who thought fighting crime in his sweatpants was a good idea.” God, that was so long ago. Longer for Tony than for Peter.

“Are you guys coming or what?” Harley hollers up the stairs.

“No peace,” Tony says again, but climbs out of bed and heads downstairs with Pepper’s fingers still laced through his.

* * *

Breakfast, thankfully, is actually pretty good. Apparently even May Parker can manage to make good pancakes, and she’s passed that skill onto Peter.

“So,” Harley says when they’re all finished, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“So,” Tony repeats.

“Presents!” Peter says.

“Oh, kids, come on – you know I’m just grateful to have all of you–“

“Okay, gross,” Harley interrupts. “Do _not _go mushy on me, old man. You know I can’t handle that.”

Tony mock-scowls at him. “Who are you calling old?”

“You. Was that not obvious? Anyway!” Harley claps his hands, and Chewie yips in excitement. “We kinda pooled together to get you some things. Number one.” He holds up a square box, clumsily wrapped.

“I did the wrapping!” Morgan tells him.

“Well, it looks great, Maguna.” Tony tears the paper off and absently gives it to Frankie; they’d learned at Christmas that she’d take wrapping paper over any new toy. Inside a box, there’s a mug that says ‘No. 1 Irondad’. “Of course you got that made.”

“Especially for you!” Peter chirps.

“That’s great, thank you.” Tony’s barely set the box aside before Morgan’s thrusting another wrapped rectangle at him. “Oh, and another one.” Inside is a picture frame, holding a photo of all three of them: Harley is holding the camera, throwing up a peace sign with his free hand, while Morgan is sticking her tongue out and Peter is dangling upside-down, his arms waving frantically. “Great photo, kids.”

“Some of my best photography,” Harley drawls. “Anyway, that’s as sentimental as I wanted to get, but these two decided they had to do the absolute _most_, so…”

“Really feeling the love, Spud,” Tony grins, and Peter passes him a book that’s unmistakably a photo album. “More pictures?”

Peter nods. “Well, we figured you could have one to show how proud you are of us in public, and one to cry over in private because you’re sappy like that.”

“Hey, now.” Tony flips open the book, but closes it again when he sees three handwritten messages inside the front cover. “Yep, okay. That’s for sobbing over on my own.”

Pepper smiles and produces a large envelope from seemingly nowhere. “And this one is from me and Peter.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Probably,” Peter says, but he’s eyeing the envelope with an almost puppyish eagerness so Tony rips into it and scans the words on the first page.

_…delighted to announce…your adoption of Peter Benjamin Parker…including assumption of joint guardianship...approved…completed…_

“Really?” He looks up, glancing between Pepper and Peter, both of them grinning. “Already?”

“We may have…sped it up slightly,” Pepper says with a knowing smile. “It still only arrived the other day, though. We were worried it might not get here in time.”

“That’s why you’ve been so insistent on getting the mail the last week.”

“I wondered if you’d notice.”

“I…wow.” Tony gets up and moves around the table, leaning down to kiss the top of Peter’s head. “Welcome to the family, kid. Again, I mean. God, we’re the furthest thing from normal, aren’t we?”

“What’s normal?” Harley says with the air of a wise old sage imparting some great wisdom. “But yeah. Happy birthday, Tony.”

“Thanks, kids. So…” Tony glances at Pepper. “Should we tell them? Or wait until everyone else gets here?”

“Cat’s out of the bag now,” she retorts, trying and failing to scowl.

“Tell us what?” Morgan demands.

“We’re gonna renew our vows.”

Harley closes his eyes. “That’s so romantic I might throw up.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, Mongoose, throwing up is–“

“It means we’re getting married again,” Pepper says, thankfully interrupting before the conversation spiralled out of control. That kind of thing tends to happen a lot with a five-year-old.

Morgan frowns and tilts her head. “Again? Why do you need to do it again? Did you get _un_married?”

“No,” Tony says, “no, this is like…getting extra married. Double married.”

“Like the whole nine yards?” Harley says. “Dress, flowers, alcohol? Because I wasn’t there the first time.”

Tony swallows. “None of you were.” Peter’s gaze turns sad for the briefest of seconds. “We got a minister to drive over from New Jersey. I was still in a wheelchair. Happy and Rhodey were there, and Nebula and Natasha were lurking in the background somewhere. That’s all.” It had been another three weeks before Tony could face looking for Harley, eventually tracking him down in an overcrowded group home in Memphis, and it was around the same time when Pepper noticed that maybe her vomiting and missed periods weren’t down to the stress of Tony being missing.

“Well, this one needs to be the real deal,” Peter says. “_Please _tell me you kept all the brainstorming from when we were planning it the first time around.”

“I’m sure we have it somewhere.” Tony knows they do, because neither one of them could bear to throw it out – May’s surprisingly good eye for colour schemes, Peter’s sheer enthusiasm for cake, all the little reminders of the people they’d lost, the plans that would never happen.

“Awesome!” Peter squeaks. “This is gonna be so fun!”

Tony laughs and kisses the top of his head again.

* * *

By the time Happy arrives with Rhodey and May around lunchtime, Frankie has left a mosaic of wrapping paper over the kitchen floor that Pepper keeps slipping on as she rushes around.

“Hey, man.” Rhodey greets him with a familiar nonchalant grin. “Fifty-four, huh? Going grey and everything.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, it looks good. Distinguished, I think people say. Am I helping?”

“No.”

“Get out of the way,” May says, smacking Rhodey lightly on the shoulder. “It’s my turn to see the saviour of the universe.”

Sometimes Tony forgets how the rest of the world sees him. In his mind, he was just a grieving father. But he laughs, because the painful memory is just that: a memory. “How are you, Mrs Parker?”

“I’d be a lot better if I didn’t have to lie to my kid’s school about where he is today.”

Happy snorts. “Don’t worry, May, this is by far the tamest birthday party of his that I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to need those stories,” May says, and grins at Happy. Happy grins back.

_Interesting_.

“Right! Um.” Tony clears his throat. “Make yourselves at home. Be careful of wrapping paper on the floor – Frankie’s a menace.”

“You love those dogs,” Rhodey says. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“And I love Peter, but he’s still a menace.”

“You been on the internet?”

“Sorry, I’m too old to understand what that word means.”

“Ha, ha. No, seriously, have you seen that guy? Got a YouTube channel, or posts videos on his website or something. Really goes in on Spider-Man. ‘Masked menace’, ‘terrorises the neighbourhood’, all that bullshit.”

“What? Does Peter know?”

“Maybe.” Rhodey shrugs. “The guy’s just doing a whole lot of nothing, really. Full of hot air. No one believes him.”

“What’s this site called?”

“The, um, Daily Bugle, maybe?”

“Fri,” Tony says sharply. “Monitor that webpage for me. Flag anything that seems suspicious.”

_“Yes, boss.”_

“Don’t worry about it, man, it’s nothing.”

“It better be nothing,” Tony grumbles. “I’m trying to enjoy my birthday over here.”

* * *

In a quiet moment, Tony escapes out to the porch with the photo album from his children and opens it up to the first page again.

Three handwritten messages.

_Daddy._

_Mr Stark._

_Tony._

Three guesses who wrote each one. He’s been called so many things in his life, but those names – they’re his favourite.

_Daddy_, Morgan’s clumsy, five-year-old writing spells out, _this was my and Peters idea. Harley thinks its cool too, but dont tell him I told you. I think your the best daddy in the whole wide world, because you look after me and Peter and Harley really really well._

_I love you 3000. Happy birthday. Love from Morgan xx_

Best daddy, huh? He’ll take that.

_Mr Stark._

_I wanted to do this because I know you never believe people when they tell you what a good person you are, so maybe if you read it enough it will sink in. I don’t know if May told you, but you saved me when I was eight, then again when I was ten, and once I met you properly, you saved me so many times I lost count (including the Big One). You’re the greatest hero I know (and I know a lot now, which is wild). What’s also wild is that Actual Tony Stark is one of the most important people in my life, and now you’re stuck with me forever! (I hope the papers arrive in time). Happy adopting me day! And happy birthday, I guess. That’s happening too._

_I love you. From Underoos_

_Tony_. He can practically _see _Harley’s shit-eating grin.

_What can I say here? You gave me the best potato gun I’ve ever had, and a stupidly expensive car. Blew up the Rose Hill water tower. Saved my life, no big deal. You’re stuck with me now, ha. I’m all your problem._

_Seriously, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you after the Snap, or if you hadn’t been there for me after it got fixed. I know I’m not that great at telling you in person, so here goes: you’re my dad, and I love you. Cool. Happy birthday. Harley out._

Yeah, that’s Harley Keener all over. Tony laughs to himself and keeps going. At the bottom of the page, there’s two messy paw prints.

Tony stares at the writing, his eyes blurring with tears, and reads it again, turns the pages and smiles as his children grin up at him from the photographs: Harley and Peter each holding up a tiny puppy; Morgan with BB-8, a huge grin on her face; Harley, sixteen and gangly, at the wheel of a car that no one with a learner’s permit should be allowed near; Peter, the first night after he’d come back, snoring into Tony’s shoulder; Morgan ‘helping’ Pepper in the kitchen, flour smeared across both their faces; a three-year-old Morgan drowning in Peter’s blue Midtown sweater; all three of them eating juice pops as Gerald leans over Harley’s shoulder in an attempt to snatch something edible; a screenshot from Peter’s video of Germany, a sneaky grin on his face as he poses in front of a snoring Happy; Rhodey holding baby Morgan in the hospital; May mock-glaring at Tony and Peter, who are so deeply engrossed in a project that they haven’t noticed her.

His kids. His family.

“Daddy! We’re doing cake!” Morgan appears in front of him, the damn robot trundling at her heels. They boys must have turned it back on. “You’re crying again. Is it still a good cry?”

“It’s a very happy cry,” Tony says with a smile. “I was looking at all these photos, honey. I love them.”

“Good. I helped to stick them in.”

“That’s awesome, Morgana. Cake, huh? Let’s go do that.”

* * *

It’s been perfect. The best birthday Tony thinks he’s ever had.

Until, of course, he’s sitting on the porch with Peter curled against his side and the kid says, “Um.”

Nothing good ever comes from, “Um.”

“What?” Tony looks down at him, but Peter won’t meet his gaze. “Peter, what?”

“School is…” Peter twists his fingers together. He’s nervous. “The teachers are talking about, um, doing a few trips to, you know, say sorry for the crazy year – loads of people starting after Christmas, retaking midterms and finals and all that.”

“Like field trips?”

“Yeah, kinda. Uh, so a lot of people in AcaDec are also in my science class, so that’s the group I’ve been put with.”

“Okay. Where are you going? DC again? What’s sciencey? God, I don’t know. Disney, to watch the rollercoasters–?”

“Europe.”

Tony short-circuits.

“Like, to Venice and Barcelona and Paris – maybe London, they’re not sure yet. Ned and MJ are coming, too, and this girl, Betty – I get on with her pretty well – Mr Stark?”

Tony whips his head back around. Peter’s staring up at him, concern written all over his face.

_Too far. It’s too far._

“Mr Stark, let go of the arm,” Peter says gently, and pries Tony’s fingers off the armrest of the bench they’re sitting on.

“I’m sorry, I–“

“No, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Not today.” Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Look, May’s signed the slip but…I said I wouldn’t hand it in until I’d spoken to you. I don’t have to go. It’s fine.”

May would have agreed without hesitation, because she’s short five years too. She doesn’t know the terrible throbbing ache of failure and despair that comes with losing a child (and he would never want her to, wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy). She isn’t so messed up that she forgets how to let Peter be a kid.

_Let him be a kid, stay a kid, just a little longer._

“No…” Tony shakes his head. “No, Peter, what do you want to do?”

“I…want to go.”

“Then go.” It comes out shorter than Tony means it too, and he ruffles Peter’s hair in apology. “You need to be a kid, have fun, make some memories. We’ll survive here without you for a few days.”

“Two weeks,” Peter says carefully. “I just think…I wanna spend some time with Ned and my class. May said I deserve a break, so…”

_Two weeks. Christ._“Of course you do, kid. Go experience Europe without a rogue Capsicle on the loose. Nice normal vacation.”

“Yeah.” Peter nods. “Yeah, normal sounds good. Normal is…needed.”

“Sure is.”

“‘S’only two weeks.” Peter’s voice is tiny. “I’ve spent longer than that in New York between visits.”

“No, I know.” Tony doesn’t point out that he’d only been an hour away, two at most. “You’ll have a great time, kid. Paris, huh? Very romantic.”

Peter doesn’t roll his eyes like Tony expected him to, but instead turns a light shade of pink.

“Pete?” Tony can’t help the grin that slides across his face. “Hang on. Tell me everything.”

“Mr Stark…” Peter moans, hiding his head in his hands.

“It’s your friend, isn’t it? The one that scares the shit out of you. TJ?”

“MJ.”

“Right, that’s the one. You’re always talking Harley’s ear off about her. You gonna ask her out?”

“Yeah, hopefully. I, uh, kinda have a plan?” Peter peeks sideways, his ears still a little red, and Tony decides he’s had enough teasing.

“Awesome. Plans are good. What might this plan involve?”

“Well, we’re going to Venice first, so I wanna buy her a necklace in one of the glass shops.”

God, this kid. The world doesn’t deserve him.

“A black dahlia, because they’re her favourite flower. ‘Cause of the murder.”

_Jesus Christ_. Tony nods along, trying to maintain a neutral expression.

“And I want to give it to her on top of the Eiffel Tower and ask her out.”

“That is…honestly the sweetest thing in the history of teenage romance.” Peter ducks his head and Tony pushes forward. “Seriously, kid! That’s thoughtful and you’re making it about her – absolutely how it should be.”

“Really?” Peter says. “‘Cause I, like, really like her, Mr Stark. I really want it to work.”

“You can’t control how she feels,” Tony says, “but you can control how you come across – just a respectful, nice young man.”

“You’re _really _starting to sound like a dad.”

“Oh, this is nothing, sport! Wait until we play catch after dinner.”

Peter snorts.

“Hey.” Tony bumps their shoulders together. “Stop growing up so fast.”

“Can’t help it.”

_Just stay a kid. Let me have this, just a little longer. I need more time._ He's getting older, Peter's getting older: this will all be gone, all different, before he knows it, changed in the blink of an eye. Letting Peter huddle against his side, Tony pulls out his phone and sends a text to Pepper.

_**Mr Stark:** Can you call a press conference?_

_**Mrs Stark:** I’m literally in the kitchen, Tony. Five steps is all it would take._

_**Mr Stark:** Got a sleepy spider situation. Pls? Soon, if possible._

He can almost hear Pepper’s sigh from inside.

_**Mrs Stark:** Of course. Why this sudden desire to get back in the limelight?_

Tony looks down at Peter, dozing on his arm, and smiles.

_**Mr Stark:** I’m stopping. It’s time to rest._

* * *

“Thank you all for coming.” Tony smiles out at the sea of expectant faces. He feels a little off-balance, out of place; it’s been a long time since he was in his element in front of the press. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Look at me, I’m old.” A few people chuckle. “Recently celebrated my birthday, in fact, and I came to some realisations. One being that I am _old_.” They laugh again. Okay. Maybe he’s still got it.

He catches Pepper’s gaze across the room, and she smiles, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m getting older, growing up – finally – and, while it may have taken me some time, I have a family now. It came in bits and pieces but it’s whole and wonderful and everything I ever wanted.” He means Pepper and Morgan, of course, but also Peter, Harley, Rhodey, Happy, May. “I finally understand what it is to have people who would do anything for you, and to want to do the same for them in return. As such, I am retiring Iron Man.”

The room explodes, not unlike the way it did when he’d announced himself to the world for the first time, more than fifteen years ago.

Tony waits for them to quiet down before speaking again, but there’s still a sense of unease that sits over everyone listening. “It’s been a privilege and a pleasure to be your hero, your protector, your defender, your Avenger, over the last sixteen – God, sixteen years? Really? That’s – wow.” He clears his throat. “It hasn’t all been fun and games, but I knew that it was what I had to do. Myself and the Avengers – we were all you had. But the thing is, I don’t think that’s the case anymore.”

Confused muttering. He’d love to be in any of their heads right now; it must be a real rollercoaster.

“The world is so much bigger and so much smaller all at once. New heroes are coming forward: some would prefer to remain anonymous, some not. Some would prefer to keep their real identities hidden, while others are more like me.” He gestures to himself. “It’s time for me to step back and let the new guard find themselves. It’s not a complete step away – I will be around to help your new heroes find their feet, as will the other Avengers, I’m sure. There is just a wealth of potential out there now, and I’m so excited to see what each new member brings, but my personal vote is going to New York’s own Spider-Man.” A round of applause, a few cheers. He hopes Peter’s watching. “Back in business, being your friendly neighbourhood arachnid. That one’s gonna go far, I’m telling you. Um, I’m rambling now, and your time is very precious, so to wrap up: I am retiring Iron Man in order to spend time with my family and face the reality that, now I am no longer in my thirties, flying around in a metal shell is doing nothing for my body. But you will not be undefended.”

Pepper smiles again, this one proud, and Tony smiles back.

“Okay, I’ll take a few questions now.” Instantly, the room erupts again. “You, in the front.”

“Mr Stark, what steps are being taken to ensure nothing like the Decimation happens again?”

_Yikes_. “The Decimation and the creature calling himself Thanos were once-in-a-lifetime, but you’re completely correct in saying that we should not get complacent. As I said, there is a whole new host of Avengers ready to fight for you against whatever new threats may present themselves.”

“But the Avengers couldn’t stop him the first time.”

“Then I guess they’ll have to live up to their name, just like we did. Okay, you, in the blue.”

“Mr Stark, Katy Riley, New York Telegraph. You mentioned your family just then. Can I ask you to comment on your assumption of legal responsibilities for two young men? Have you adopted them?”

_Hit me with the easy questions, why don’t you?_“ While your facts may be true, one of those processes happened nearly six years ago, and both of them happened in complete confidence. I will tell you that I have known both of those boys for years, they have both worked under me in one capacity or another, and I am very fond of them. I consider them both part of my family, and any attempt to track them down and invade their privacy will be dealt with accordingly.”

“Mr Stark! Washington Post. Why have you made the decision to retire now?”

“Well, apart from the epiphany concerning my own mortality, I’ve found my goals have changed. I have different priorities. I started out because I had battles that needed to be fought, wrongs I had to right, people to protect. Getting older, I’ve begun to find that I no longer simply have people to fight for. I have people I need to stay alive for.” He pretends to check his watch. “Uh, I believe I’ve said all I need to. Thank you for your time, and thank you for letting me be your Avenger all these years.” With that, he flashes a peace sign and steps off the stage as the reporters clamour behind him.

Pepper meets him by the doors, a wide smile on her face, and kisses him until Happy clears his throat and ushers them out.

“Was that satisfactory, Miss Potts?” Tony murmurs.

She tilts her head, scrunching her nose up as she grins. “That was perfect, Mr Stark.”

* * *

It’s late when they get home, all the lights off except for the one on the porch and the telltale flicker of the television. Even so, they’re not prepared for the sight that greets them.

Their children are sprawled across one of the couches in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets and cushions. Morgan is curled up between the two boys, who each have one of the dogs on their laps. Chewie lifts his head when the door opens, but doesn’t make a sound.

“Good boy,” Tony breathes, tiptoeing across the sitting room to turn the TV off. He can see Frankie’s eyes follow him, too, but she doesn’t move from her spot on Peter’s legs.

Pepper gently tucks a blanket over Morgan before leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. Harley doesn’t stir when she does the same to him, not even when Chewie spends a good while making himself comfortable again; no, Harley could sleep through an earthquake.

Peter couldn’t. He blinks awake, squinting up at them. “…hi.”

“Hi, honey,” Pepper murmurs. “It’s just us.”

“M’kay,” Peter mumbles, and lets out a sleepy sigh.

Tony presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Night, Underoos. Love you.”

“L’ve you too,” Peter breathes, and then he’s asleep again. He looks so much younger like this; they all do.

“FRIDAY,” Pepper says, “make sure you save a few good photos of them.”

_“Of course, Mrs Boss.”_

Tony stops at the foot of the stairs just to get another look at them. His children, his legacy. The people he’s staying alive for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so iron man is officially retired, huh? wonder who's gonna come crawling out of the woodwork now

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites, or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me.


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